


Not Mandatory

by WrecklessImagine



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Case, Caution, F/F, F/M, Gen, Kidnapping, Lies, Love, Lust, M/M, Multi, Smut, Torture, Truth, Wellness, Wellness Director, caretaker, kidnap, respect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-10
Updated: 2016-02-25
Packaged: 2018-05-19 13:45:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 39,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5969320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WrecklessImagine/pseuds/WrecklessImagine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a bill is passed into law requiring a Director of Wellness to be hired for every department and important team in government across the country, SSA Aaron Hotchner’s boss lays down the law, demanding he finally hire for the position someone who is capable of providing civilian aspects of life to his stressed-out team that they desperately seek.</p><p>Hotcher’s issue?  The hired caretaker’s job doesn’t stop at sexual needs.</p><p>Will the team be able to cope with her presence, while also understanding that, while physical intimacy does fall under her umbrella of things to take care of, sex isn’t mandatory?</p><p>And when their controversial Wellness Director goes missing, will they be able to put aside their differences and find her before its too late?</p><p>**If you are squeamish with realities of capture and torture, or prefer the glamorized sexual encounters that are written between original characters and the team members, then this is not the story for you**</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You're Hired

“What do you mean mandatory?” Aaron Hotchner glares at Strauss.

“I mean...you can no longer skirt the issue of having a Director of Wellness on the team,” she fires back, taking a step forward and planting her hands on Hotch’s desk.

“I am _not_ hiring a legal prostitute to assist this team,” he lowers his voice, growling at his superior with the force of a sun.

“She provides more than sexual services, and you _know_ it,” Strauss fires back between clenched teeth.

Erin Strauss had been at the forefront of the bill that was passed into law a couple of years ago. The law essentially states that a Director of Wellness was to be hired to each police station, fire station, and important government team in the nation. The only stipulation was that the woman, or man, hired was to have training, certificates, or a degree within the required field that they would be assisting.

The qualifications of the job were broad: this person was to assist in everything the team might need to help them focus and do their job better...everything from a last-minute babysitter to a personal chef to, you guessed it, a person to be physically intimate with.

The first two years had provided such uplifting and shockingly positive results that they mandated the law for each and every law enforcement station and team, requiring them to have one under their employ by the middle of the coming calendar year.

Meaning? Hotch now had to hire someone for the position.

“I already have some resumes for you to look over,” Strauss says, slapping five folders down on his desk as she rears upright and smiles.

“I take it their all your type,” Hotch grits as he leans back in his chair, opening the folder and scanning the documents inside.

“Oh, I don’t plan on ever using this person sexually. But as someone to talk to? Possibly.”

And with that, she was gone...leaving Hotch with five folders and a mandatory position he wasn’t keen to fill.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Straightening your blouse one more time before taking a deep breath, you step off of the elevator and into an open area, what people usually referenced as a “bull-pen.”

With your head held high, you climb the steps towards the office that you had been beckoned to, raising your hand to knock on the door and trying to not stare at the multiple pairs of eyes situated on your figure as you crossed the room.

Climbing the stairs, you take in one more deep breath through your nose before raising your hand to knock.

“Come in,” you hear a gruff voice call out.

Coming in and shutting the door, you make your way over to the chair in the middle of the room.

“Sit,” the man commands.

_A bit wound up, aren’t we?_

Sitting down, back straight, legs crossed at the ankles, fingers interlocked in your lap, your eyes drill a hole into the man’s tilted head before he lifts his gaze to you.

“Describe to me the position I’m hiring you for,” he asks.

Pausing a beat before realizing he’s serious, you take a deep breath.

“You are hiring me to be the Director of Wellness, sir,” you say.

“And what does the ‘Director of Wellness’ do?” he says, lifting his gaze permanently to you.

You took offense to his air quotes.

“The “Director of Wellness,’...sir...is someone who is available...all day and every night...to tend to the needs of the team that employs her.”

His eyes narrowed before continuing.

“The team that employs her?” he asks.

“Yes, sir. I am not employed by you, or by your superiors. I am employed by the team. I say ‘yes’ to what they need, and act without a moment’s hesitation,” you respond.

“Sexually, you mean?” he attempts to clarify.

“No,” you bite.

“No?”

“No,” you repeat.

A long pause of silence before...

“Well, what else do you offer?” he asks.

“Besides counseling services, I provide anything and everything a team like this might need on a day-to-day basis. For example, say Miss Jareau’s babysitter gets sick, and Will is at work. She calls me to come watch her child, and I’m there.”

As Hotch’s eyebrows raise, you uncross your ankles and lean back into the chair.

“I did my research, unlike you... _sir_.”

You couldn’t help but smirk.

“So you’re a glorified babysitter,” he states.

“And a glorified doctor, and a glorified cook, and a glorified caretaker, and a glorified counselor, and a glorified physical trainer, and a glorified DD, and a glorified friend...”

And as you lean forward, your bosom prominent as you dip your gaze towards Hotch, you find him leaning forward ever so lightly so he can hear the next words whispered from your lips.

“...and a glorified fuck.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Everyone, I want to introduce you to our new Director of Wellness, Miss Y/F/N Y/L/N.”

As everyone’s heads turn to look up towards the balcony, you hear a whistle come from afar, your eyes dancing around as they land on a chocolate-skinned man standing next to a gangly-looking sea urchin, whose jaw was swinging against the floor.

“It’s about time!” the dark one exclaims.

Watching as the people in the bullpen shake their heads and snicker, you watch as an older gentleman approaches your side, a sly smile on his face as he takes your hand within his, bringing it slowly to his lips and kissing the back of your hand.

“Hello. I’m David Rossi,” he introduces.

“Nice to meet you,” you say, smiling back as you bow lightly in his general direction.

“Her office!...” Hotch interrupts, “...will be right under mine. She has some office hours as well as other things that she will discuss.”

“Miss Y/L/N,” he ushers, his hand ushering outward as he turns back out towards the team.

“Hello,” you say, waving lightly, “I’m Y/F/N, and my office hours are pretty regular compared to yours. I’ll come in around 7:30 and leave around 5:30, and I am available at all hours of the night for anything that may arise that you might need assistance with.”

“I’m sure she is,” Prentiss mumbles into J.J.’s ear.

“Anything from needing a ride to an emergency room to a last minute babysitter, to a running partner to someone to cook with...or for...or to have someone cook for food for you. Whatever you need, I am there for, no questions asked.”

As you watch the confusion slowly waft across their faces, you find yourself chuckling as you shake your head lightly.

“Yes, stereo-typically, my position has been directly related to sex, and other sexual proclivities. And while that is open and on the table as part of my job description...and feel free to explore the option, as I knew it helps reduce stress in, and out, of the field...I am also many other things, including a friend...if you need one.”

“Huh,” Spencer says, eyeing Morgan out of the corner of his eye, “told ya.”

“Can it, pretty boy,” Morgan mutters, taking out his wallet and slapping a $20 in his hand.

“And at any point in time during the day, if you want to talk about something, schedule something, or rant about something, feel free to knock on the door and come on in,” you finish.

Turning towards Hotch, his eyes glaringly hooked onto you, he lets out the breath he was apparently holding as he turns toward a shy intern running up the steps.

“Here are your credentials,” Hotch says, passing you a badge and a leather-bound FBI ID.

“That was fast,” you say, your brow furrowed as you look back up at him from the objects in your hand.

“I had to hire someone. You were the last folder in my pile,” he says, turning around and walking back into his office.

Snickering lightly as you gaze down upon the credentials in your hand, you pull your lips taut as you shake your head lightly, hearing the team go back about their daily duties as your feet absent-mindlessly draw your body towards the steps.

“ _Welcome_ to the team,” you mutter to yourself, taking a deep breath and slowly beginning your descent down the stairs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Boss-man not a fan, huh?” a woman’s voice finally interjects.

Breathing deeply as your swollen face slumps over, you slowly bring your sore neck up to an even level as you try to open your tired eyes.

“At first,” you snicker, resulting in a crack across your face.

“Disgusting little wench,” the woman mutters, wiping her hand off on her pant-leg as she sits down in a chair in front of you.

Swallowing hard to suppress a painful groan, your heavy tongue darts out to lick your dried, chapped lips as you attempt to pull your wrists once again from the binding ties.

“Don’t worry,” the woman coos as she watches you struggle against the chair restraints, “you’ll get used to them.”

And as you clench your jaw tight, trying to keep your tears at bay so as to not give her the satisfaction, you bend your chin down against your heaving, bruised chest as your mind begins to whirl with endless thoughts and tremor-inducing ideas.

The woman wanted to know about your sexual escapades with the team. She wanted to know all of their filthy, dirty secrets.

But you weren’t going to give her the satisfaction.

Your were going to employ the tricks Emily had taught you over and over again.

You were going to lie.

And the woman was going to believe you.


	2. Derek Morgan

It took you two months to finally settle into your job. You brought in your books from your schooling, with most of the team being shocked that you had any sort of higher education...much less two Master’s degrees...and you hung a few pictures as well as a couple of inspirational quotes that helped you get through the day, and the stereotypes, of the job you had decided to make your career.

Yes, a Director of Wellness was as taboo of a job as you could obtain, but you enjoyed helping people...so much so that you would usually destroy yourself in the process.

But that only made you well-suited for this particular career choice.

You had gotten to know the team you would be serving a little more. You knew that Rossi enjoyed cooking and warm fires, as well as his solidarity and independence. You knew that he had been married many times, though none of them (except his first) seemed to supersede his job. You knew that Morgan was a playboy, no doubt covering up a huge secret that he would, hopefully, talk to you about in the future.

You knew that Hotch had seen way too much, with him coming and sitting in your office, only to request that the lights be off and that you not stare at him. Sometimes you would squint to do some paperwork, only for the shaking of his shoulders to catch you out of the top of your eye.

Spencer was a hard one. You didn’t see him until almost a month into your job, and when he did come in, he was hesitant...like your sexual nature would devour him in one bite.

Poor kid.

But once he opened up, he was quite the talker. And you listened. And every once in a while he would question why you didn’t tell him to shut up, and you would answer honestly.

“Because what you have to say matters.”

J.J. loved coming in and talking about her family. She lit up whenever she talked about Henry, and she even ended up taking your offer for weekend babysitting so that her and Will could spend some much needed time together.

You assumed she talked to Will about the darker stuff, and that was fine. That’s partially what a partner is for.

Emily was a show-stopper. She would come in, start with a few sexual innuendos, wiggle in her seat when you threw them back at her, and then...little by little...she would open up about things in her past. No prompting, no leading. Just a pure need to talk to someone who was unbiased, who didn’t know who her parents were, who didn’t make her feel like she was living and breathing in the shadow of someone else...who wasn’t as tainted by the world as everyone around her.

And Penelope...dear, sweet Penelope.

She always left you wonderful things.

Some brightly folded origami cranes, or a danish she picked up at the bakery on her way into work. Or some brightly colored pens after mentioning in passing that you were frustrated that you couldn’t find any of yours.

One time she even brought you coffee, and it brought tears to your eyes.

She was a doll.

And you were determined to repay her somehow.

But outside of the babysitting for J.J., no one had called, or requested, or beckoned in the slightest.

Until that fateful call at 2 am.

“’’eeeeeey, sweet stuff,” you hear Morgan slur into the phone.

“Derek? Are you alright?” you ask, sitting up in bed as you groan and wipe your eyes with your free hand.

You had taken to calling the team by their first names. It helped you to distinguish yourself from everyone else in their lives, and it helped them to feel as if you were outside of their everyday work. It seemed to make them more comfortable around you when they did visit.

They seemed to need someone who, at least metaphorically, stood outside of all of the horror they saw on a daily basis.

“Derek?” you ask again, the loud pumping of the music blasting into your hear.

“H-hello? Hello, who is this?” a foreign voice says.

“Hello?” you ask again.

“Yes, um...I don’t know who this is, but there’s a large black man slumped in the corner, and he looks pretty drunk. He’s at the Hoppin’ Dragon downtown. I’m the bartender in the red shirt.”

And the call went dead.

Throwing on your robe as you dash out for your keys, you slip your glasses on as you stick your feet into your yellow flats by the door, your robe being pulled tight around your body as you barrel out of your ranch-style home and crank your car, flooring it out of the garage and racing down the road.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Darting your head around as you find the bar off to the side, you push your way past people covered in black-light paint as you approach the bartender in the red shirt.

“Hello!” you yell over the music, flashing your badge, “You said there was a very intoxicated black man here!?”

“Yeah!” the bartender yells back, “Follow me!”

Following the bartender through a set of double doors, your eyes settle on Derek’s body, thrown haphazardly on a cot as he rolls his head towards you, a slurred smile dripping across his face.

“Theeeeere she is,” he says, reaching out his limp hand as you tug at him, the bartender surprised at the way you can take his body weight upon yours as he helps you out the back.

“You gonna be alright?” he asks, helping you get Derek to your car.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” you say, grunting as you plop him down into the back-seat.

“Lots of water,” the bartender says as he helps you into your car, holding your door open for you as you get situated in your seat.

“You got it, boss,” you say, cranking your car and grabbing for the car door as you hear the bartender hit the roof of your car, signaling you were good to go as you pull out into the road.

“Let’s get you home,” you mutter as you take a left, heading straight for Derek’s apartment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fishing out the keys from his pockets as he starts to groan, you throw open his door and help him through, his body staggering as you shut the door and throw the lock.

“You gonna take advantage of me?” he slurs, lobbing his head over to you as he smiles playfully, his breath wreaking of alcohol.

“Never,” you say, your eyes serious as you place a chaste kiss on his sweating cheek.

Walking in silence into his bedroom, you start drawing him a warm bath, panicking because you don’t know how much alcohol he has actually ingested.

Listening to the tub filling up, you help him shimmy out of his clothes, trying to make out the provocative joke he is probably trying to crack, but shaking your head as the string of words become blurred by his deliriously intoxicated state.

“Alright, here we go,” you say, helping the naked man over the edge of the tub and lowering him in.

And not a moment too soon.

Watching as he spews up his alcohol over the side of the tub, you lunge backwards and grab a towel off of the rack, tossing it down onto the floor as you move to the side, your hand rubbing his back as his muscles contract and release with every heave of food and liquor onto the floor.

“Oh...god...” he chokes out, his hand coming up to wipe his face as you start to splash water onto his back.

“Ssshhh...” you coo, shrugging off your robe to reveal your silky full-length nightgown underneath, “it’s alright.”

Feeling him start to heave again, you rip another towel down from the rack as you place it in front of him, watching as the last of the alcohol and food in his stomach comes rip-roaring through his nostrils, his body shaking as his hands white-knuckle the edge of the tub.

“Oh, Derek...” you sigh, reaching for a cup as he starts to lean back into the tub.

“Oh, god,” he says again as you hand him some mouthwash.

“Here, swish this,” you say, watching him as he takes it from your hands.

Cleaning up the floor as he soaks in the warm, soapy water, he resorts to just spitting the mouthwash out in the bathtub as you shake your head, your body gyrating with each scrub of the floor you take, trying desperately to get rid of the vomit-smell as Derek closes his eyes in the tub.

“Don’t fall asleep on me just yet,” you say, chuckling lightly as you gather up the last of the dirty towels, tossing them into the washer with his clothes and starting it on a hot cycle.

Coming back into the bathroom, you see him already attempting to get out on his own.

“Easy there, big boy,” you say, reaching out to help him the rest of the way, grabbing the last towel and wrapping it around his hips.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, his eyes half-hooded with exhaustion as you lead him over to his bed.

“Here, let me help,” you say, taking the towel from him and drying him off, starting at his feet and working your way up.

“Mmmm...that feels good,” he murmurs as you work along his back.

“Do you wear anything to sleep?” you ask, drying off his shoulders before moving to his head.

“Mm Mm,” he says, shaking his head as he lulls it forward.

Figures.

“Alright,” you say, running and tossing the towel in along with everything else.

“Now, lets get you to-”

But when you came back in, Derek was already situated under the covers.

“Come here,” he says darkly, patting the side of the bed as he holds the covers up for you.

Slowly walking over as you slide in beside him, he wastes no time in plowing his lips into yours, his hand gliding along your shoulders before cupping the base of your head.

You thanked your stars for the mouthwash.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you feel his hands slide down the fabric of your nightgown, his fingertips working along the inside of your thighs as you part your legs, sensing his “no wasting time” attitude.

Feeling his plump lips trail down your neck, his tongue tracing your pulse point as you let out a nefarious sigh, you feel him press his warm, throbbing erection close to your slit, his breath hitching as you roll your pelvis into him.

And without warning, he guides himself in, slowly and steady, as your hands fly to his back, your fingertips digging in as you hang on for the ride.

Feeling him toss a leg over his shoulder, he plants his hands on your shoulders, holding you steady as he quickly picks up the pace, the sounds of your skin smacking together in the darkness of nighttime as the bed creaks and bangs up against the wall, the sounds of his groans and your pants filling the room as he picks up your other leg, tossing it over his other shoulder before folding you in half, bending down towards your face as he plants a chaste kiss on the tip of your nose.

“Oh, god, Y/N,” he groans as he thrusts harder, your teeth gritted as the pressure starts to build.

“Fuck,” you breathe, your hand slipping in between you as you begin to flick your clit, his balls slapping your ass as he thrusts in deeper, the sweat beginning to drip from his brow as you feel him begin to falter.

And one by one, the two of you fall apart, your calls to the wild causing you to arch your back as he digs his teeth into your breast, moaning and grunting as his dick twitches inside of you while your walls cave in around him, pulsating and massaging him as he thrusts into you one more time before lobbing your legs off of his shoulders, collapsing his body onto you as he traps you between the mattress and his chest.

“Holy...god...” he breathes, leaning his head up and kissing you deeply before rolling off.

“Thank you,” he whispers, his breaths still coming in pants as you stare at the ceiling, a crook of a smile on your face.

“My pleasure,” you respond, the traces of a giggle light on your lips.

“Come here,” he says, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you flush to him.

“I really should-”

“No,” he says, steady in your ear, “now get some rest.”

And after his hot, heavy, and fast session of much needed release, he holds you close, debating between his body that wanted to use you and his mind that wanted to make sure that you were cherished.

He really was two opposite ends of the stone.

And you hoped one day he would trust you with why.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Did he ever?” the woman asks.

Clenching your jaw, she watches your temple pulsate as she chuckles.

“Don’t worry, darling...men don’t entrust prostitutes with their secrets,” she says through her giggles.

This was one of those moments where you wished you had paid more attention to their in-office talking.

All you knew was someone was abducting Wellness Directors.

And try as they might have to convince you of your vulnerability, you had kept brushing them off.

And now you were going to die because of it.

Squirming in your seat, your thighs clenching and unclenching desperately, the woman gets up and walks behind you, dipping her lips down into your ear.

“It’ll be easier if you just...let it go,” she breathes.

And as you fight back your tears, you feel your bladder release, your urine running quickly down your leg as it splashes to the floor, the woman chuckling behind you as she walks away.

“I’ll be back soon!” she offers, “I quite like these stories of yours.”

Sighing with content as you realize she believed your story, it boosted your confidence a bit to be able to fool her, to be able to protect the most intimate secrets of the people you had come to respect...and honestly? Just because your actual encounter with Derek didn’t go well, doesn’t mean his name should be tainted.

Deep down, you knew he was worth more than that.


	3. Aaron Hotchner

“Oh my god, you actually _did_ it!?” Garcia harshly whispers as you sit in your office, watching the spectacle unfold in the middle of the bullpen.

Sometimes you enjoyed being back in the dark. The team would forget you were there, and it gave you an honest look into the dynamics of the team.

“What was it like?” Prentiss asks, coming up behind him.

“Did what?” Rossi asks.

“Morgan had sex with you-know- _who_!” Garcia squeals, motioning her head towards your office.

“Isn’t that part of her job, technically?” Spencer asks, walking up with a mug of coffee in his hands.

“Well, _yeah_...but no one’s done it yet!” Garcia exclaims.

“Until now,” J.J. says.

“Done what?” Hotch asks.

“Actually had sex with the WD,” Rossi hires back.

As Hotch shakes his head at Morgan, Derek continues with his story.

“No, no...it was _more_ than that,” he says.

“Don’t tell me you’re in love, Morgan,” Rossi quips.

“Dude, no. Just _shut up_ and listen,” he says.

As Morgan tells the story of how you picked him up, bathed him, cleaned up after him, and then caved to him in a fit of passion, just like he needed...no questions asked...you can see the team enraptured with the conversation as Hotch’s brow furrows with something you hadn’t seen in him up until this point.

Shock.

“Look...she stayed with me, and when I got up this morning she left this note behind,” he says, unfolding the piece of paper you recognized from his pocket.

Shaking your head as you smile, you bring your coffee mug to your lips as you turn your chair, looking out the window that had been installed in your office just for you.

“She had to leave to get ready for work, but she didn’t want me to think she’d deserted me,” Morgan says, folding the note back up and putting it in his pocket, “She’s a doll...and we’ve been tiptoeing around her like she’s a virus.”

“It’s her job to be a doll, or whatever else we need,” Hotch quips.

“No. It’s not her job to be kind,” Morgan says as he turns to Hotch, “it’s her job to do what we ask. But all I asked for was a ride home. She could have dumped me on the couch, thrown a blanket over me, and left. But she didn’t.”

And that struck a nerve with Hotch.

And before you knew it, you heard a knock at your door.

“Come on in,” you say, swiveling around from your view of the street as you look up at a very...humble?...Hotch.

“Yes, Aaron?” you ask.

“I just, um...”

Watching him search for his words was entertaining.

“I want to apologize,” he says.

“For what?” you ask, feigning shock as you furrow your brow.

He found the joke funny, and it was the first time you had ever seen him smile.

“We’ve been treating you like a pariah, and that’s not right,” he says.

“Correction,” you say, putting your finger in the air, “you,” you point at him, “have been treating me like a pariah.

“I suppose so,” he says, his gaze turning from one of apology to one of a scolded child.

“Don’t worry about it, it comes with the territory,” you say, a light smile crossing your face as you grab your mug of coffee and take another sip.

After a brief bout of silence, you clear your throat.

“Well, if you don’t mind-”

“Let me make it up to you,” he says quickly.

“Hmm?” you ask, your eyebrows raising in surprise.

“Let me make it up to you,” he says, his eyes coming back up to connect with yours, “I mean, not with sex or anything...just...it’s been a while since I’ve cooked for anyone other than my son, and I-”

Holding your hand up to stop his rambling, you smile as you shake your head.

“Just tell me where to be and when,” you muse.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two days later you were standing on the doorstep of Hotch’s house, 6 PM sharp, ringing the doorbell as you hear the sound of a young child running for the door.

“I got it, Daddy!” the little boy yells out.

Watching the door open, a little boy emerges, a bright smile on his face as you dip down to his level.

“Hello, I’m Jack. You must be our guest,” he says, smiling his toothless smile as you giggle.

“Yes, I am. My name’s Y/N,” you say, extending your hand as he shakes it, “It’s very nice to meet you, Jack.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too. Come on in!”

Stepping in as you shut the door, you feel hands at your shoulders as your jacket is peeled away, revealing a close-to-the-neck dark green dress that fits, but doesn’t hug, your figure, hitting you just below the knees with matching flats.

“I’m really excited you’re here,” Jack says, taking your hand and tugging on it, “Daddy never fixes anything fancy anymore. Usually its just macaroni and cheese and apple slices.”

“But I thought you liked macaroni and cheese and apple slices,” Aaron says as he casts a playful glare down at Jack.

“Well, not all the time, Dad,” Jack says as you chuckle down at the little boy, throwing Aaron a playful wink.

“Dinner’ll be ready in about 15 minutes,” Aaron says, ushering you into the kitchen.

“Here,” he says, handing you a glass of wine as your eyebrows hike up.

“Well, I never turn down a glass of nice wine,” you quip, swirling the maroon liquid in its glass before bringing it to your lips, taking a light sip before setting it down on the counter.

“And for the big boy,” Aaron says, “some grape juice.”

Setting a cup down in front of Jack, he brings it to his mouth and chugs it down, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he looks up at you.

“Aaahhh...hits the spot,” he says.

Throwing your head back and laughing, Jack smiles brightly at you as Aaron chuckles from the stove, stirring the heavenly-smelling sauce as you take a seat on the bar-stool beside Jack.

“So, Jack, how old are you?” you ask.

“I’m 6!” he says, holding up seven fingers.

“I think you mean...this many,” you say, fixing his hands to say six.

You found Aaron glancing at you occasionally from the corner of your eye, his head mischievously turning every once in a while to catch a glimpse.

“Wanna see my new toy!?” Jack exclaims, hopping down from his chair.

“Sure,” you say, starting off to follow him.

“No, no! Wait here,” he says.

Getting back up on the stool as you watch Jack scamper off, you turn your body towards Aaron, who was now setting everything up on the island to be served.

“He’s a good kid, Aaron,” you muse, looking at him intently from beyond your wine glass.

“Well, he doesn’t get it from me,” he muses playfully, a smile gracing his cheeks.

“Then it must be his mom,” you say.

And then you watched his face fall.

Your heart began to ache for the man in front of you. The carcass of a man who had seen way too much, had been loved way too little, and had lost the only woman who probably ever meant anything to him outside of his mother.

“She was a good woman,” was all he offered.

“Look!” Jack says, holding out his arms as you take stock of him in his superman outfit.

“Whoa! Awesome!” you exclaim, turning your attention back to the little boy as Aaron sets a plate of food on the island.

“Lets eat, Jack,” Aaron says, a light smile on his face to fool his boy, but you saw the hurt behind his eyes.

The three of you ate and made small talk, and you even ended up going back for seconds, just happy that...for once...you didn’t have to live off of take-out and frozen dinners.

It wasn’t that you didn’t cook, you just had no one to cook for.

“Oh my god, Aaron, this was delicious,” you muse, singing his praises as you lean back in your chair, “How in the world am I going to get home? I can’t move!”

“You could sleep over!” Jack yelps.

Chuckling and shaking your head, you find Aaron’s eyes locked on your form across the table as his face becomes stoic.

“You could, you know. If you wanted to,” he says.

Feeling the grin drop off of your face as your eyes lock with his, you feel Jack’s little hand in yours as he pulls you up from your chair.

“This is gonna be so much fun! We can play games, and sing songs, and watch movies!”

And as Jack continues to rattle off activities to be had for the evening, you turn your head around and catch one more glimpse of Aaron’s face, his head turned all the way around as he watches you be dragged by his son up the stairs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The poor child didn’t even make it through the first movie.

Hearing him snore lightly as his head rests on your lap, you feel Aaron shift beside you as he goes around to pick up Jack.

“No, no, no,” you whisper, swatting his hand away, “I’ve got this, sit back down.”

Walking up the steps to lay Jack down in his bed, you kiss the little boy goodnight before flicking his light off and gently shutting his door.

“He really likes you, you know,” Aaron says.

Jumping as you whirl around, your hand over your heart, your eyes widen as you reach out and swat at Aaron’s arm.

“Good god, man, you scared the hell out of me!” you harshly whisper.

“Sorry,” he says, another smile coming across his cheeks.

Standing in the hallway, staring at each other, you make the first move to walk past him before his arm shoots out, causing you to back yourself into the wall.

Leaning your head up, searching his eyes as he debates what to do, he leans into your ear and whispers, “I don’t know how this works.”

“Aaron, you don’t have to do anything,” you say, bringing your hand to cup his cheek as you settle your eyes onto his.

“You don’t seem to get it,” you say, barely above a whisper, “it’s mandatory to hire me, it’s not mandatory to sleep with me.”

Feeling him nod into the palm of your hand, you feel his hurt and his loneliness slowly transferring from him to you, your heart plummeting to your feet as you watch his glazed look struggle between what his body was craving for so long and what his heart really wanted.

“I won’t see you...” he chokes out, a tear streaking his cheek as you lean forward and kiss it away.

“Then so be it,” you whisper.

Feeling his arms wrap tightly around your waist, he picks you up into the air and crashes his lips into yours, his body turning down the hallway as he walks you into his bedroom, slowly lowering you onto the bed as he releases your lips.

Panting lightly as you run your fingers through his hair, you lean your body up and capture his lips again, kicking off your shoes as Aaron leans you up, his fingers finding the zipper of your dress as you stand back to your feet, listening to the fabric slide off of your body and drop to the floor.

Kissing down your neck, his teeth grazing along your collarbone, your hands move up under his shirt as your fingertips roll over his aged and weary muscles, twitching underneath your touch as he releases you and rips his shirt over his head.

No words exchanged, just long glances and heavy pants, he collides his body with yours back down onto the bed, the pillows bouncing off as his hand begins to palm your naked breast, your nipples standing erect as he rolls your sensitive, brown nubs in between his fingers, his mouth working a quick pace over your neck and sternum as he buries his face into your bosom, bringing your breasts together and taking a long sniff.

“You smell wonderful, Haley,” he says.

And there it was.

Feeling him stop, retracing his words, you feel him grimace against your skin as he tries to rip up from you, your hands catching his back before he can get away.

“No. No, Aaron, no no no no...”

Chanting to him as you raise up, not wanting to let to of his body, your eyes find his in a frantic frenzy as he brings his hands to his face.

“Oh, god,” he groans, sitting on the bed as you scurry off and come around to him, your naked bosom bouncing as you dip into his view.

“Aaron, look at me,” you urge, slowly bringing his hands down from his face.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers.

“Aaron, look...at me,” you enunciate.

Watching him open his eyes, the sadness ripping at his under-eye bags like a feral cat, you cup his face in your hands as you bring your forehead to his.

“It’s alright,” you stress, whispering delicately as you plant a chaste kiss on his lips.

“Let me try something,” you say, placing your hand on his chest as you slowly lower him back down to the bed.

“Y/N...I-”

Scooting in between his legs as your fingers hover above the zipper of his pants, you flicker your eyes back up to him and say, “If it’s not something you need...”

But all you were met with was a stare.

Working diligently on his pants, you shimmy him out of them, your breasts bouncing with every movement as you pull his boxers down, freeing is partially erect length from its confines.

“Now that just won’t do,” you mumble, shooting him a fiery glance before slowly wrapping your warm lips around his length.

And that’s when you heard the guttural groan emanate from his throat.

Leaning his head back onto the bed, you glide your soft fingertips back up his thighs, feeling his legs jumping underneath you as he grows to fit your mouth, your plum lipstick streaking the protruding veins on his dick as you moan, the vibrations causing his cock to twitch.

“Oh, god,” he grunts, his chest heaving as he tries to dig the heels of his feet into the carpet.

Bringing the bends of his legs to rest on your shoulders, you slowly stand to your feet, curling him up as you take all of him into your mouth, your gag reflex kicking in as you slowly ease him back a bit, your spit dripping down the last inch of his throbbing dick as he writhes and grasps at the comforter.

“Oh, geez...fuck,” he says through gritted teeth as he slowly begins to undulate his hips.

And just as you felt him begin to build, his thrusting becoming ragged as his chest starts to flush, you graze your teeth along the head of his dick as he sucks in a sharp bout of air.

“Ssssss!”

Licking the bit of precum off of his tip, your eyes flicker back up to his as you see him, eyes squeezed shut, lower lip drawn into his mouth.

“Please,” he breathes.

“Please, what?” you ask in a low, sultry voice.

Hearing him whimper was too much to bear.

Parting your lips and taking him back in, you feel his hands rush to your hair, his demeanor changing from hurt, jaded older man to rough and tumble lover.

“Oh god...yes,” he proclaims, his hands wrapping in your hair as his pelvis rolls deep into your mouth, your hands digging into his sides as you rake the pads of your fingers down his torso, his muscles twitching underneath your touch as you hollow out your cheeks.

“Oh...Haley!” he breathes, his body pulling taut as his hips raise off of the bed, his warm, salty seed spilling into you as your hands wrap around to grasp his ass, his hands holding steady to your head as you ride his high with him, your tongue swirling and your mouth sucking him dry as he finally lets out a long, contented sigh, his hips dropping back down to the bed.

Swallowing as you grimace, trying not to let him see, you clean your face up a little bit as you wipe the excess spit and lipstick off of your cheeks before climbing back onto the bed, your breasts still exposed as you prop yourself up beside him, with nothing but his gasps and sighs filling the dark bedroom air.

After a few minutes of silence, Aaron’s breath regulating and evening out, you slowly shimmy off of the bed just as you feel a tight pressure around your wrist.

“Please don’t go,” Aaron croaks.

And without saying a work, you bend down and wave your hand around, searching for Aaron’s shirt on the floor as you grasp it and throw it over your body before climbing back into bed with him.

Laying there, your bodies perpendicular to the wall as his feet still dangle off of the side of the bed, the comforter thrown haphazardly over the two of you, he lays his arm out for you as your head and hand lays to rest on his chest, your body curled into the crook of his arm.

If it was one thing this team didn’t want...it was to be alone at night.

And that fact made your soul wrench.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“He called you ‘Haley’!?” she exclaims, your body wincing as she giggles, clapping her hands in front of her.

“How dandy,” she growls, her entire demeanor switching as you begin to tremble.

You knew that switch.

Feeling her walk behind you, a cool, metal...something...tracing along your shoulders, you feel yourself begin to shiver as she cackles.

“There’s a muscle that runs along the collarbone,” she says as she points the needle to your skin, “aaaall the way up your neck,” she enunciates as you feel the metal being trailed up your neck, your head trying to lean away from it.

“Nice to know you paid attention in biology,” you spit.

“Tsk tsk tsk,” she ticks, her tongue pressing against the side-base of your neck as you grimace, “such an attitude.”

Feeling her hover the needle above the point she just slopped, you whimper as you brace for what’s coming.

“This is gonna hurt,” she says, pressing the needle into your skin as your jaw peels open, your throat yelling and gasping for air as you try to tug yourself free, the pain ricocheting through every atom of your body as you wiggle and writhe, trying to get away.

“ **Stoooooooop!** ” you shriek, begging someone to hear you.

But no one heard you.

They never did.


	4. Spencer and Emily

Aaron wasn’t as vocal about your encounter a couple of weeks ago as Derek had been. And that was alright with you. Aaron struck you as the kind of man to keep things close to his chest, and while he talked about how nice dinner was, he seemed to leave the other stuff out.

Whether it was him being gentlemanly, or him being ashamed, it was his puzzle to piece together.

You didn’t take any of it personally, it was part of the job...and you noticed that the guys did start having more positive attitudes, and that was what you were here for.

But this particular morning was hard.

Spencer had called you that night, around 1 in the morning, sniffling in the phone and not being able to get a single word out. You had ended up grabbing your keys off of your nightstand, driving through a 24/7 fast food chain for two large coffees, and ended up having to bang his door down to get him to open it.

And when he did, your heart sank.

There he was, poor Spencer, his eyes puffy and red and his nose splotchy and runny, his hair a disheveled mess and mucous stains covering the back of his pajama sleeve.

“Come here, sweetheart,” you had cooed, setting the two coffees on the coffee table before pulling him down onto the couch with you, his head in your lap as he sprawled his long legs out on the cushions.

And you had sat there for an hour, running your fingers through his hair, nothing but his quiet sobs and sniffles filling the air as the two of you took small sips from your coffees, enjoying the company as well as the comfort.

He had fallen asleep in your lap around 2:15 am, despite the amount of caffeine in his system, and that is when you started to take stock of his body.

The long arms, the frazzled hair, the red face, the long toes...

The pock marks...

You held your breath, tears springing to your own eyes at this little child’s inner demons that he must face on a regular basis.

And before you knew it, you found yourself holding back your own sobs as he snoozed quietly in your lap, your chest heaving silently as you stared down the ticking clock.

2:30 am.

2:50 am.

3:30 am.

The last time you remember seeing was 4:13, and when you felt Spencer shift on your lap, your tired eyes flew open, your fingers twisted in his hair as he slowly leans up, taking stock of the bags under your eyes as he sits up quickly and smiles weakly over at you.

“I-I’m uh...I’m sorry,” he says.

“For what?” you ask, turning your body towards him as he dips his head.

“For calling so late last night,” he says.

“Don’t be,” you coo, reaching out to squeeze his hand as he slowly takes yours within his, interlacing your fingers and running his thumb over the back of your hand.

“I have a question,” he asks hesitantly, “...well, a few really...” he trails off.

“Shoot,” you say, tucking your leg up under your body and continuing to sip on your now-cold and stale coffee.

“Why sex?” he asks, his brow furrowing tightly.

“Why a gun?” you shoot back, his brow now furrowing deeper as he shakes his head.

“I don’t understand,” he says.

“Neither do I. But the guns are for your protection, correct?” you ask, feeling the tighter grip on your hand as he leans back into the couch cushions.

You two were going to be late for work.

“The gun is part of the job, whether you want it to be or not, whether you like it or not, it just is...right?” you urge.

“Well, yeah,” he says.

“Well...so is the sex. I just happen to be one of the few people employed to this position that enjoys that aspect of the job. It’s a great way to relieve stress, as well as connect and feel closer to the team that I’m employed under,” you state.

“So you don’t see yourself as a prostitute?” Spencer asks.

Holding your breath as you try to calm your rapidly beating heart, you sigh as you close your eyes.

“I-I-I’m sorry...I really didn’t, oh god...”

Watching Spencer release your hand and put his face in his palms, you reach out and rub his back, massaging your fingertips into his tense shoulders as he slowly lowers his hands, dipping his head further down and groaning.

“Sex isn’t necessary. There are many in my field that’ll never have sex with some of the people in their department or on the teams they work for,” you state matter-of-factly.

“You mean ‘with’,” he breathes, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as you situate your body behind him, your hands working deep into his shoulders.

“No, I mean ‘for.’ I’m employed by the team as a whole to tend to needs they wouldn’t otherwise get from connections they may or may not have to the civilian world,” you explain.

“No, you work with us,” Spencer stresses, his head coming back up as he mindlessly places his hands on your feet, wrapping your legs around his waist and crossing them in front of him body, settling them onto his lap.

“No, I work for you. I’m not out in the field working with you, I am at home tending to your needs whenever you need them. I work for you,” you explain.

Hearing him sigh, you trail your massaging fingers down his back, his body instinctively leaning forward as he lets out another groan.

“Feel good?” you ask.

“Very,” he murmurs.

“While I would love to sit here and continue to assist, we’re gonna be late for work,” you state.

“I know,” he sighs.

Shimmying out from behind him, you stand up, your body still wobbly from the exhaustion as Spencer’s arm darts out to catch you, helping you to steady yourself.

“There is something I need...but it’s kind of...”

Turning to look at him as your eyes search his face, you take his hand within yours and squeeze it reassuringly.

“What is it, Spencer?” you ask.

Slowly raising his gaze to yours, his eyes dancing over face as you cock a half-smile at him, he takes a deep breath and begins.

“Everyone treats me like I’m a child. I mean, I’m the youngest on the team, but I’m far from a child,” he says.

“I would assume so, yes,” you reply.

“And I mean, I know I take care of my mom by providing money so people in their field can take care of her...but sometimes I just...”

“...want to take care of someone for a change?” you ask, your voice upticking as your smile broadens on your face.

“Y-yeah. I mean, not sexually or anything, I mean...at least not yet? I don’t kno-”

Holding your hand up, you chuckle as he stops talking.

“I’ll tell you the same thing I told Aaron,” you start, “hiring me was mandatory. Having sex with me is not.”

Watching him chuckle lightly as he dips his head down, you crook your finger up under his chin and pull his face back up to yours.

“Your smile is too beautiful to be hidden,” you muse.

“What I’m asking,” he starts as he clears his throat, “is that...well...maybe if you need someone, if you get sick or if you have a nightmare, or if you just need something...maybe call me?”

His request went against everything you believed. Your job was to take care of them. Not them take care of you.

You never stopped to ask yourself what would happen if their need was to take care of someone...

...that someone being you.

“Ok,” you say, smiling lightly as you nod, “Alright. I can do that.”

“Great,” he says as he rocks back and forth nervously on his feet.

“Well, I should get ready for work,” he says as he thumbs behind him.

“Me, too,” you say as you gather up your things and head for the door.

And as Spencer opens his apartment door for you, he leans into the top of your head, placing a chaste, quick kiss on top of it before ushering you out the door.

“Thanks for the massage,” he says quickly.

“Anytime,” you reassure him as you head for the stairs, taking them two by two as you dash for your car.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

....and that evening ran you into this morning, with your legs spread and your back arching in the chair with the blinds pulled and the window to the street wide open.

“Oh...good _fuck_ ,” you bite, your lower lip drawn into your mouth as your heels dig into the carpet.

“Mmmmm,” Emily hums in appreciation, her tongue swirling around your pulsating clit as her fingers begin to tease along your dripping slit.

You had walked into the office that morning, with your sunglasses on and a huge cup of coffee in your hand, and everyone inferred from Spencer’s especially haggard appearance that the two of you had been together last night.

And while Derek had teased him for details, Spencer kept assuring everyone that it was just because he couldn’t sleep.

He explained his story, Aaron and Derek listening intently while the others smiled, and you could have sworn Emily kept glancing over at your office.

You had pulled the blinds as you walked in, keeping the room dark as you sighed and flopped down into your chair.

Taking your sunglasses off, you pick up a mirror to survey the bags under your eyes before sighing heavily again, picking up your coffee and taking three very long pulls from it.

It was going to be a long day.

Groaning at the paperwork sitting on the edge of your desk, you shake your head as you turn your chair around, your coffee in between your hands, as you look out from the 6th floor down onto the street, the scenery unfolding in front of you as people pass by each other, waving and honking horns, all the while looking up at the looming government building and being met with black glass, impenetrable by eyesight, but never knowing of your intent gaze upon them as you find your head lobbing off to the side.

You don’t know how long you were asleep for, or even when Emily had entered your office, but when you came to, your legs were twitching and when you squeezed your thighs together, your fingers curling over the arm rests of your office chair as your legs spread wider for you, you quickly begin panting as she smirks up from between your legs.

“Morning, sunshine,” he muses, her eyes dark and mischievous as you look down on her, your chest flushing as he puts your legs over her shoulders, her tongue flattening out over your slit as she works her friction over your sensitive mound.

“Oh, good _christ_ ,” you breathe, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you slide down your chair, her fingers finally inserting themselves as they slowly curl up, causing your legs to shake as you prop your heels up onto the window sill.

As her tongue swirls and flicks, her other hand parting your folds as she finds the head of your clit, she flicks quickly, causing your body to writhe in your chair was your legs grow taut, pushing against the wall as the chair goes barreling into your office desk with a thud as she sucks your throbbing mound into her mouth, her tongue making long, wide brushes over it as your body convulses and jitters with your orgasm, your head sinking into the cushioning of your chair as you slap your hand over your mouth, stifling your yelp as your body finally drops down, shaking from your prior high as your chest heaves for air.

Feeling Emily get up from the ground, you hear her rustling a bit, your eyes never opening, as her lips graze against your cheek, smelling of your scent as she catches your earlobe between her teeth.

“Check your schedule,” she whispers before heading towards the door, your hands working quickly to situate your skirt back down as you slowly turn the chair back around, your chest red and flustered as you try desperately to find your bearings.

Watching her open the door, she turns her head and throws you one more smirk, a playful wink following as she side-steps out of your office, revealing a smirking Rossi and a wide-eyed Spencer.

“We’ll come back later,” Rossi says, taking Spencer’s arm as he turns around, Spencer’s head careening back to rake his eyes across you just before they turn towards the kitchen, walking out of view.

And as you lean forward onto your desk, your endorphins running at an incredible high, you laugh weakly and shake your head as you look down at your planner, seeing in bold red letters the words “Blue Duck Tavern, 6:30 PM” and circled with a bright green highlighter.

Guess you had plans Friday night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Poor little virgin,” the woman lulls as your shoulder twitches from its torture, your chest heaving as it tries to regulate your heart-rate.

“I bet he caves eventually,” she muses, her fiery eyes flickering up to you as you slowly peel one swollen eye open, glaring at her as she raises her eyebrows.

“Well, look who’s up!” she exclaims, clapping her hands as she crosses her legs.

“Morning,” you growl sarcastically.

You could feel your skin tearing away at your ankles as your urine trickles down your leg once more, burning the exposed area as you grit your teeth to contain your wince.

“There’s no use in being strong,” she says, uncrossing her legs and leaning forward, “you’ll die like the rest of ‘em.”

“Sexually fulfilled and loved?” you spit.

“No!” the woman rages, jumping up and punching you in your sternum, causing your breath to leave your lungs as your good eye widens, your lips gasping for air as your vision begins to tunnel, a pain so great that is causes your vision to blur and tunnel, your stomach bile lurching into your throat as you heave it involuntarily into your lungs, your body sputtering and shaking as you try to catch your breath.

“Like a dirty _animal_ ,” she seethes, her face dipping down into your vision before everything goes black.


	5. Jennifer Jareau

You weren’t quite sure if your Friday evening with Emily was going to pan out or not. The team had been called away on a case, and you had absolutely no idea when they were getting back.

Until J.J. called you.

“Hello?” you answer, looking up from your book and realizing it’s just past dinner time.

“Hey there, Y/N,” J.J. answers lowly.

“Hey there,” you coo, putting your book down and heading towards your shoes, “are you guys back?”

“Yeah...we are. We just got off the tarmac,” she answers.

As silence fills the phone call, you grab your keys from the kitchen counter as you wait for her to respond.

“Could I come over?” she asks, her voice wavering lightly as you furrow your brow.

“Of course,” you say, setting your keys back down, “do I need to make a place up for Henry to sleep?” you ask.

You inferred enough from her conversations about her family in your office that they were struggling. Between his job taking him away and her job practically consuming the other hours, they barely had time to see each other. And with Will wanting to get married...

“Could you?” J.J. asks.

“I’ll see you guys soon. And come hungry,” you say as you hang up the phone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

About an hour later, with the smell of honey-basil chicken and macaroni and cheese wafting through your house, you open the door to find a disheveled, tired, bra-less J.J. standing crookedly at your door, with her beautiful young son at her side, holding her hand.

“Hi, Miss Y/N,” Henry says.

“Hey there,” you say as you bend down to his level, “you hungry?”

Watching him nod his head yes, you usher them into your home, taking J.J.’s stuff from her arms and situating it in the guest bedroom before heading out to the kitchen.

“Take and eat whatever you want,” you say as you usher to the plates laid out on the kitchen table.

“This smells incredible,” she says as she sits down, spooning Henry some macaroni as he begins to shovel the cheesy noodles into his mouth.

“Well...I hope it tastes just as good,” you smile, bringing her a glass of wine and Henry a juice box.

Eating in relative silence with Henry asking a few questions here and there, you watch as he slowly winds down his intake of food as he approaches three bites into his third helping.

“This was really good macaroni,” Henry says as he finishes his juice box.

“I am glad you enjoyed it,” you smile.

After gathering the plates and rinsing them off in the sink, you watch as J.J. starts staring off out the window as Henry comes up and tugs on your pants.

“Could I watch a movie?” he asks.

“I can do you one better. How would you like to watch a movie in a bedroom with some ice cream?” you ask.

“Yaaaaaay!” he shouts, running down the hallway as he darts into the room with his overnight bag.

“Come on out when you’re ready for the bowl of ice cream!” you call back to him as you watch him dart between the room and the bathroom, seemingly hurrying up his bedtime routine in order to be rewarded with the sugary goodness that was awaiting him.

“J.J.,” you muse, putting your hand on her shoulder as you squeeze reassuringly.

But all you saw was one lonely tear trickle down her face.

“I’m ready!” you hear Henry call as he bounds into the kitchen, your body standing up to shield him from his crying mother as you grab the bowl of ice cream you had spooned out for him off of the table.

Handing the bowl the little boy, you bend back down to his level as he smiles brightly, his arms flying around your neck as he tries to balance the bowl in his one hand.

“Thank you,” he says before letting you go, turning around and darting back down the hallway.

Moving to sit down at the kitchen table, you realize that J.J. isn’t fighting the tears pouring down her face.

“What happened?” you prompt, reaching out for her hand as you take it within yours.

Shaking her head, like she was coming to from a dream, she slowly pans her wet gaze over to you as she sniffles hard, clearing her throat to try and find her voice.

“Will told me that I had to make a choice...,” she says, barely above a whisper.

And all that emanated from your lips was a sigh.

“What...happened?” you enunciate, scooting your chair closer so that your knees were touching.

“I-I-I...we um...we were preparing to take off to come home, a-a-and I looked at my personal phone and saw a lot of missed calls and voice messages, and I stepped away to go listen, and it was Will. With this whole...big thing...about how he can never get in touch with me when he needs me, and how I’m never here, and how those calls proved that the job was more important, and that I wasn’t a good enough mother to Henry because I was never there and-”

And that’s when the dams burst.

Throwing your arms around her as she brings her hands to her face, she begins to sob audibly as you stand her up, your arms wrapping around her and pulling her close as your right hand moves to stroke her long, blonde hair

“Was he home when you went to go get your overnight things?” you ask lowly in her ear.

And you felt her nod her head yes.

Letting her go as you grab your two wine glasses, reaching over for the rest of the bottle, you urge her up and guide her over to the sitting area as you sit her down onto the squishy couch cushions, pouring her another glass and handing it to her before helping yourself to another glass.

“What happened when you got home?” you ask.

“He-”

Hearing her sniffle as she wipes her face, she swipes under her eyes before sniffling again.

“He uh...he apologized furiously, saying that he didn’t mean any of it,” she chokes out through her involuntary chest heaves, “He said that he wanted to do some counseling...something to help us work out our differences...whatever those actually are,” she finishes, rolling her eyes.

“And what did you say?” you ask as you lean back, taking a sip of your wine as she slowly sinks back with you.

“I said that I needed time away from him to think,” she sighs.

“I bet he didn’t like that,” you murmur as you take another sip of your wine, your eyes side-glancing her as she huffs into her glass.

“No, no he did not,” she says as a smirk crawls across her face.

“Theeeeeere she is,” you lull, taking your finger and reaching over, playfully flicking it below her chin.

“What should I do?” she asks as she finishes the last of her wine.

“Besides have another glass?” you say as you reach over and pour her the rest of the wine in the bottle.

“Yeah, besides get drunk and pass out,” she chuckles.

“I think you know better than I do on this one. I’ve never been married. I’ve never experienced the unrelenting dedication that goes into the feelings you have for someone that you want to marry.” you say.

“You’ve never been in love?” she asks, turning towards you as she flips the conversation.

You decided to roll with it.

“No,” you say shaking your head, “no, it’s always been about my studies, and then finding my career path, and now I’m here, doing what I love, with people that I’m coming to greatly admire and respect,” you finish as you put your wine glass to your smiling lips.

“So, you’ve never been in love at all? Not even unrequited?” she asks.

“Nope,” you say, popping the “p.”

“You should really try it,” she says as she takes a sip of her wine.

"Sounds like a decision’s been made,” you say as you switch the conversation back, your eyebrows hiking into the air as you lock onto her eyes.

“Yeah...” she trails off as she sighs heavily.

“I shouldn’t have to choose between my family and my family,” she says as she starts staring off again.

“No. No you shouldn’t,” you muse as you reach out and take her hand.

“If you trust me, I’m willing to give counseling sessions to you both, but I also have another trick up my sleeve...if you’re willing to hear me out,” you say.

“I’m up for anything at this point,” she sighs.

“Think about bringing a trusted third party into the bedroom,” you suggest.

“What?” she says flatly, her head whipping over towards you.

“I know, I know. Sounds like a shit idea. I mean, from the sounds of it, the two of you probably haven’t had an active sex life for a couple of years now, right?” you ask.

But all you did was watch J.J.’s jaw unhinge.

“You’d be surprised what kind of stress builds up without the release that not even masturbation can provide,” you say as you squeeze her hand reassuringly, “and sometimes a couple’s sex life just needs a little jolt...something new and exciting...or maybe something to spark a little jealousy within one of them.”

As you continued to talk and explain yourself, you watched as J.J. soaked up all of the material spewing from your lips.

“...in other words, sometimes a couple really does enjoy a third party in bed, but some couples start out bringing a third party in, only for jealousy to spike in one...or both...of them, and they kick the third party out and continue in their own way. Either way, it jump-starts the process by adding a different element to an otherwise cemented routine.”

“That’s...” she trails off, shaking her head as she huffs.

“That’s brilliant,” she says a she furrows her brow, the shock in her voice causing a light grin to uptick on your cheeks.

Watching J.J. yawn as she finally releases your hand, bringing it to her mouth as she covers her gaping jaw, she shakes her head as she grunts, slowly getting up off the couch.

“I’m exhausted,” she breathes.

“I bet you are,” you muse as you take the empty wine glasses, walking them to the sink, and tossing the empty wine bottle as it clatters in the trash bin.

“I think I’m gonna go to bed...” J.J. trails off, “...think about what you said, and stuff.”

“Sounds good,” you smile at her, wiping down the kitchen and coffee table as you watch her slowly meander down the hallway.

You knew she would think.

You knew she would tell Will.

You even knew that she would probably be open to the idea herself.

But something told you that merely suggesting it to Will would be enough to open his eyes.

And as you venture into Henry’s room, smiling as you see the sleeping child, covered in vanilla ice cream with the bowl nestled into his stomach, you tiptoe over and turn off the television before making your way to the bed beside him, slowly pulling the empty bowl from his grasp before lightly wiping his face off and bending down to kiss him on his forehead.

“Sleep tight, Henry,” you whisper before getting up off of the edge of the bed and making your way out the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Marriages in these jobs never last,” the woman lulls, her eyes saddening for just a second before darkening again.

“Is that what happened to you?” you ask, finally finding an opening to turn the tables.

Her stone-cold expression was all the answer you needed.

“I bet he cheated on you with the WD...didn’t he?” you ask, feeling a light smile cross your face involuntarily as you slowly start to place the pieces together.

“And now? You’re killing us off...one by one...to try and prove your adequacy to a husband who wanted a legal prostitute over you,” you spit.

“You disgusting **mongrel**!” she roars, jumping up and gnashing you with her nails, hearing your skin tear as your face begins to sting, the blood slowly trickling down your skin.

“That’s what all this is about?” you huff, shaking your head as you slowly turn back to her, “Killing off an entire position of jobs just because your husband couldn’t keep it in his pants?”

“She was a fat, nasty little twerp,” the woman seethes, her spit dripping down her lips, as if in a rabid state of consciousness.

If you weren’t careful, she’d kill you now.

“Not all of them can take care of themselves the way I do,” you lull, leaning back into your chair as you smile at her.

And as the woman takes stock of your body, her eyes raking across you slowly as she stops on every bruise and open wound, she slowly pans back up as you catch your stare.

“I’ll be back,” she whispers.


	6. Emily Prentiss

(Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5)

 

Friday came and went pretty quickly, with most of the team excused after the particularly hard case.

But you decided to come in anyway.

You didn’t have too much paperwork, but you wanted to make sure you stayed true to your work hours, just in case someone needed to find you quickly but didn’t have the wits about them to try you on your phone.

And just after you had come back from lunch, you found Rossi standing outside of your door.

“Hey there, David,” you smile as you walk towards him, your to-go cup of some diet drink in your hand as you fiddle with your carabiner of keys, trying to find the one for your office door.

“Here we go,” you say, opening the door and moving through to flick on the light.

Sitting your stuff down on your desk as you situate yourself before sitting back down, you look up to realize that Rossi is studying you from the edge of your office.

“Is everything alright?” you ask, motioning to the pair of seats in front of your desk as he slowly moves towards one.

“Yes,” he says simply, putting his hand on the back of a seat as he traces the faux-brass decorations adorning the fabric of the chair.

“May I help you with something?” you ask, your head cocking lightly to the side.

“How does this...work...exactly?” he asks, motioning between his body and yours.

“I’m not sure I understand,” you say, crinkling your brow as you lean back, your lips puckering around the straw of your drink as you take a sip.

You saw him staring at your lips.

“Do I just-”

Holding your hand up as you sigh, bringing your free hand to the bridge of your nose, you groan lightly as you hear someone sit down.

“I’m sorry, I-I didn’t mean to-”

“Just stop,” you say as your eyes slowly gaze back up to his.

“I just need to write this and put it up somewhere,” you say, holding up your finger as you throw open your side drawer, removing from it a legal pad of yellow paper and a dark red sharpie.

Scribbling something in letters, you rip it from the document, reaching for your tape as you eye a bare spot on the wall to your right.

Getting up and walking over, your skirt shuffling with your movements, you tape the sign up before stepping aside, motioning to it with your hand while flashing Rossi a big smile.

Sex is NOT Mandatory.

Watching Rossi chuckle as his gaze turns downward to his lap, you watch him sink lightly into the chair, getting a bit more comfortable as you glide back to your chair, sitting down into it and placing your forearms onto your desk.

“Now...how can I help you, David?” you ask again, your voice soft and light.

“You know it’s a long weekend, right?” he asks.

Furrowing your brow as you glance over at your calendar, you see the approaching federal holiday for this coming Monday.

“Well, I know now. Thank you for the reminder,” you say, your eyes panning back to him.

“Any plans for Sunday evening?” he asks.

“None that I have written anywhere,” you say, leaning back and crossing your legs.

You saw his eyes flicker to your legs.

“You haven’t been to a family dinner yet,” Rossi states.

“I’ve never been invited to one,” you retort.

“Well, that isn’t very nice,” he playfully jests.

“I suppose everyone assumes an orgy will occur once I enter the threshold of one David Rossi’s,” you smirk.

“The sexual tension would be palpable,” he grins, making himself more comfortable in the chair as he rests his elbows on the chair arms, his hands crossed and resting on his stomach.

“All of this to say...I haven’t had the chance to cook for you, or show you my wine collection,” he says, a broad smile crossing his face.

“Such a shame. I hear it’s the stuff of legends,” you say as you wink at him.

“See you at 7?” he asks as he goes to get up.

“I’ll make a note of it,” you say as you grab a navy pen, scribbling something in your calendar as you feel a warm hand come down lightly on your wrist.

Looking up slowly, your eyes connecting with Rossi’s as he searches your face, you feel your brow furrow lightly as you take in a breath to say something.

“Would it be inappropriate if I...”

Searching his face as he drifts off, you set the pen down and wriggle out of his grasp, your hand reaching up gently and cupping his cheek.

“I’ll bring the appropriate...accoutrements,” you say.

And as he smiles lightly at you, he leans in and presses a light kiss to your forehead before turning his back and walking away, shutting your office door behind him as you lean back into your chair.

For now? Your mind was on tonight.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Holy god, I’m stuffed,” you exclaim as you walk down the sidewalk with Emily, her smile beaming across her face as he shakes her head.

“I told you not to go for a second round of dessert,” she says.

“But it was so damn good!” you exclaim, giggling as she ushers you to your car.

“Gonna follow me?” she asks.

“Yeah, I only had two glasses of wine. I’m good,” you say, patting your stomach as she laughs.

“You’re insane,” she says as she starts to back up from you, crossing the road quickly to her car.

Pulling out of your parking space, you inch up behind her car, waiting for her to pull out as she swerves to get in front of you.

Gripping the steering wheel a little harder than normal, you finally pull into Emily’s apartment complex, parking in one of the visitor’s spaces as you watch her approach your car in your side-view mirror.

Stepping out of the car, your heels clacking on the ground, a gust of wind kicks up, fluttering your dress high onto your legs.

“Jesus. Sorry,” you mumble, smoothing your dress down as you raise up out of the car.

But all Emily was doing was staring at your legs.

“Let’s get on inside,” she says, grabbing your hand and starting for the side door.

Stumbling off of the elevator, your lips furiously traveling down her neck, she moans as she jams her hand into her pocket, fussing with her keys as you bite down on her neck, making her yelp.

“Ah!” she says as she turns towards the door, causing you to slide around her and wrap your arms around her waist.

Hearing her door unlock, the two of you barrel into the apartment, Emily turning around and shoving you up against the door, your body slamming it shut as she reaches over your shoulder and throws the lock, her lips crashing into yours as your lips part to devour her.

As the dark apartment fills with your moans and gasps, your hands tangled in her hair as her lips slide down your sternum, you feel her hand plant itself firmly on the outside of your leg, her warm skin trailing up your thigh as she stops just shy of your ass.

“You’re gorgeous,” she mumbles, sucking the top part of your exposed cleavage in her mouth, running her teeth along it as your leg begins to shiver.

“Christ,” you whisper, gritting your teeth as you hop up, wrapping your legs around her as she carries you over onto the carpet of the living room.

Something told you you weren’t making it to the bed.

Reaching for Emily’s button-down blouse, you grab the fabric and rip it open, the buttons popping as your pulsating need overrides your lady-likeness, resulting in a wide-eyed expression from Emily, followed by a devilish grin.

“Now, that’s what I like to see,” she says, crashing her body back down onto yours as your hands work the tattered fabric off of her shoulders, your finger nimbly unhooking her bra straps as you slip it off of her arms, her breasts swinging free as you wiggle underneath her to catch one in your mouth.

“Mmmm,” she hums, her eyes rolling back as she perches on all fours on top of you.

Rolling her puckered breast in your mouth, your hands begin to lightly travel down her torso, causing her arms to buckle as you quickly roll her over, her breasts bouncing against her body as you dip your lips down, your tongue rolling over her stomach as you slowly approach her pants.

“Not this time,” you growl, your fingers finding the button and zipper on her pants as you free her of her confines, the fabric sliding off of her legs as you raise up, tossing her pants to the side as you lay your eyes on her soaked lacy panties.

Letting out a guttural groan as you smirk, you watch as Emily eyes you cautiously, her chest flushing with anticipation as you slowly pick up her foot, your lips starting with her ankle and kissing slowly back up to her inner thigh.

She twitched with every move you made.

“I bet Miss Dominant isn’t used to this position,” you mumble, your breath hot on her center as you hear her gasp.

“Oh, goooooood...” she breathily lets out.

Planting a kiss onto her hip-bone, your fingers hook into the sides of her underwear as they drag them slowly...and painfully...down her legs.

Surveying Emily in all of her naked glory, you can’t help but appreciate the beauty of this strong woman unfold before your eyes.

Her lightly rippling muscles buried under a sheet of porcelain skin, the flush of her newly-aroused flesh creating a contrast that brought out the pink in both sets of lips.

You were going to treat her right.

They all deserved to be treated right.

Bending back down, your lips puckering to blow a light stream of cool air as you watch the sheen from her slit jump with every contraction of your core, you slowly place your tongue just below her throbbing clit, her pelvis bucking against you as your hands race back around her thighs and wrap up to clench down on her hips.

Lapping deeply into her entrance, you make a show of your sounds when drinking her up, the slurps alone sending waves of pleasure through her, her skin puckering in response.

“Oh, yes...” she moans, her legs lifting up as she places the heels of her feet onto your back.

Slowly licking upwards, your tongue flicking over her clit, she jumps as you smirk, encircling her spot painfully slow.

“Fuck,” she whispers, her hands slowly traveling into your hair, her fingers curling around your Y/C/H locks as you dig your fingertips into her hips.

“Please...” she begs, whimpering for more.

“Please?” you mock, your eyes darting up to her as she looks down upon you.

“Please...” she moans, her eyes rolling into the back of her head as you lick a long stripe up her once again.

“I suppooose...” you tease, letting go of one hip as you slide your hand under her, playing one of your fingers at her entrance as you slowly slide it in.

Her groan was enough to gush you between your own legs.

Pressing the flat of your tongue up against her, her body instantly begins to rock into your face, your breathing timed exactly with her pull-backs as you dig the friction of your tongue into her aching clit, you slowly slip another finger inside of her, this time curling them upwards as her legs begin to tremble.

Flickering your eyes up as you watch her mouth gape open, with nothing but the sounds of her gasps and groans pouring from in between her lips as she yanks on your hair, you extend your pinky, circling the entrance to her plump porcelain ass before slowly sinking the skinny digit in, her body clamping down around you as you watch her eyes fly open.

“Oh, good god!” she yells into the room, her voice ricocheting off the walls as she writhes and bucks underneath you.

You could feel her pushing away, the feelings so intense that her body yearned for you to stop, yet begged for more.

And you moved with her, her lips dripping “stop” but her hips bucking against your mouth.

“Have you had enough?” you murmur into her, the vibrations causing her to cry out as she arches her back off of the carpet.

“Please don’t stop, please don’t stop, please don’t stop,” she chants, your tongue running quick flicks along her swollen lips as she grinds harder, your face glistening with her juices as she whimpers and moans and begs.

“Please. Please. Pleeeeeeeease.”

And as she commands, you press the flat of your tongue deep into her, your tongue rolling around as you suck her clit in, her body pulling taut as her heels dig into your back, her mouth gaping open as primal, alien-esque sounds barrel through her throat and project out into the night, her chest heaving for air and her body convulsing at your every whim.

Feeling her body drop back down, her limbs spent as they slowly drop from your body, you rear back and survey the sweating, flushed mess that is Emily Prentiss, grinning with delight as you trail dirty, wet kisses up her torso, her eyes glazed over as they stare blankly at the ceiling, the tremors of her body slowly subsiding as she pants over and over again.

“Christ,” she breathes as you slowly come into view.

“Are you comfortable?” you ask, furrowing your brow as you waves a lazy hand in the air.

“Who cares?” she breathes.

Looking around as you spot her bedroom, her door half open with the light still on, you get up and wipe your face off on the back of your arm, traveling into he room as you emerge with two pillows and a blanket.

“Here,” you say, lifting her head as you slide a pillow underneath.

Then, as you go to place another one between her legs, she reaches out and grabs your arm.

“Aren’t you staying?” she asks.

“I can if you would like me to,” you state.

“Ok,” she says, swallowing her as she nods lightly.

And as you hunker down beside her, the pillow under your head as you cover both of your bodies in the blanket, you feel her lob herself over onto her side, her arm sloppily spilling over your waist as she clutches you from behind, pulling you close into her naked body as she sighs once more.

“Thanks,” she says as you feel your eyes flutter closed.

“Not a problem,” you muse.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"And that’s just...how it ends?” the woman says, holding her hands in her lap as you look at her under hooded eyes, the swelling in your tongue kicking up after a particular brutal beating.

“Nope,” you say, popping the “p” as blood and spit burst forth from your cracked lips, your throat sore from the fervent choking session she had initiated to expel her anger once again from her system.

“Then keep talking, _slut_ ,” she growls as she leans forward, your head lobbing off to the side as you groan in pain, your colon desperately attempting to override your contracting muscles as the woman begins to laugh at you, her heel kicking out and nailing you in the shin as you rear your head back and scream, feeling the blood trickle down your shin as you begin to whimper and cry.

You had to poop.

And you didn’t know what to do.


	7. David Rossi

As you stand on David’s porch, your jaw agape as you stand in awe of his home, you re-situate the overnight bag slung on your shoulder as you raise your finger to press the doorbell in.

Shuffling from foot to foot as you hear the door open, you whip your gaze up as you take in a well-dressed Rossi, a black button-down shirt tucked into a pair of black pants holstered together with a black belt.

You couldn’t deny that the man looked sharp.

“Hey there,” you smile as Rossi’s eyes dance along your outfit.

“Allow me,” he coos, reaching out for your small bag, “let me take that for you.”

“Thanks,” you smile, stepping in as he ushers you past him, his hand gracing your lower back ever so lightly before turning around and shutting the door behind you.

“You look stunning,” he smiles as he goes and sets your bag down on his plush couch.

“You’re too kind,” you say as you feel your cheeks blush.

“And something smells amazing!” you exclaim, your smile broadening as he hands you a glass of wine.

“Oh, that? That’s just the sauce for the chicken marsala. I’m about to throw the button-head mushrooms in now.”

Musing in monosyllabic tones as you saunter over to the island bar in the kitchen, you sit down on one of the bar stools as you watch his hands work gracefully over the stove, humming a tune to himself as you furrow your brow.

“Nessun Dorma,” you muse, giggling as he whips his head around.

“You know that aria?” he asks, his expression very surprised.

“Doesn’t everyone?” you ask, cocking an eyebrow lightly in the air as he chuckles.

“No. Not in the slightest,” he says.

“What a shame,” you sigh playfully, your hair cascading over your shoulder as you place your forearm lightly onto the counter.

You could see Rossi trying very hard not to watch it swing.

“Dinner should be ready in...”

Watching him look over at the microwave clock, he hops backwards as he rips the oven open, taking the chicken out as he sets it on the counter.

“...now, apparently.”

Laughing lightly as you watch him plate the food, he whirls around and sets a beautiful dish in front of you, your eyes widening as you take in the artistry around you.

“Well, I dare say, David,” you smirk playfully, “if you ever get tired of chasing criminals, you could always become a chef,” you state, picking up your fork and knife as he watches you delicately cut into your food.

Placing the morsel in your mouth, you couldn’t help but moan lightly, your eyelids fluttering closed as you shake your head slowly while you chew.

“Oh, my god,” you groan.

“Good, huh?” he says, taking a large bite off of his plate as he studies your body, taking in every dip and imperfection of your skin as you thoroughly enjoy the food he has set in front of you.

He found it intoxicating.

“David, I’m going to hire you,” you say as you open one eye, pointing your fork at him as you lower it for another bite.

“Consider the job taken,” he says, leaning forward and winking playfully at you.

The rest of the dinner was eaten in relative silence, filled with sounds of chewing and your occasional moan whenever you couldn’t hold in your enjoyment any longer.

After clearing the plates, the dishes clattering in the sink, Rossi pours you another glass of wine, extending it out to you as you hop off of the stool.

“Don’t mind if I do,” you muse, shooting him a seductive side-glance as you bring the glass to your lips.

“Ready for the wine collection?” he muses as he settles his hand on your lower back.

“Always,” you lull, letting him guide you over to the staircase as he grasps the little knob that you had almost overlooked walking in initially.

Watching as the triangular door fans out, you watch it give way to a corridor, your heels clicking gently on the floor as the miniature corridor gives way to a sprawling room behind it, cases of wine displayed against the oddly shaped room as your mouth gapes open.

“So...?” Rossi starts as he stands beside you, his arm still around your waist.

“Holy hell,” you breathe as your eyes continue to scan the floor-to-ceiling glass cases of decadent wines.

Hearing Rossi chuckle brought you back to reality as your head whips around to him.

“David. This is...”

Shaking your head as your eyes are drawn back to the case, you walk away from him as you put your glass to your lips, taking a long pull just before you feel Rossi put his hand around yours, slowly slipping the glass from your fingers.

Watching him as he goes and sets them on a little table in a corner, you study his body as he slowly rears back up, turning around slowly as he catches your gaze.

As he saunters walks back towards you, his hand slipping low around your waist as he takes your other hand within his, he leans his lips close to your ear as he begins to hum the tune he was humming not moments ago, your eyes fluttering closed as you let the music to one of your favorite arias wash over your body.

Swaying back and forth slowly, his breath hot on your ear, you feel your neck begin to flush as he presses his shockingly soft lips to your skin.

Your breath audibly hitched.

Feeling him kiss you over and over, his lips peppering your neck as he slowly lets go of your hand, he slips his arm around your body, bringing you close to him as your hands rush to his hair, his teeth peeking out to lightly graze over your exposed collarbone.

Gasping lightly as you feel his hand sink down to your ass, he cups your cheek lightly as you feel him begin to sink to the floor, your body traveling with him as he lays you down on the plush, warm carpet.

With no words exchanged, just heavy breaths and gasping pants, his hand slowly creeps up your dress as he dances his fingers along the inside of your leg, your knees falling off to either side as he trails kisses down your exposed sternum, your eyes fluttering closed as you feel his free hand smooth out along your left arm, interlocking his fingers with yours.

Soon, your dress was up over your stomach, his tongue darting out lightly to trace your lines as his hands slowly work your dark green underwear off of your body, your hips raising up as he sucks in the skin right at your hipbone.

The sensation made you squirm.

“Oh, god. David...” you lull, your throat gasping for air as you feel him smile against your skin.

Kissing you back up to your naval, you reach your hands down as you grab him underneath his arms, wrenching his body back up to you as you crash your lips into his, snaking your tongue into his mouth as he brings his hand up to cup your cheek.

“Slow down,” he mutters against your lips, causing your jaw to tremble as you dip your hands down between you two, your hands working steadily at his belt buckle as you finally get him free.

Bringing your feet up to help him shimmy out of his pants, you flip him over as you raise up, working his underwear off in a hurry as you plod your hands down on either side of his head, your panting chest hovering over him as your darkened eyes catch his stare.

But before you could speak, you were spun around again, your back planted firmly to the floor as Rossi continues to hold your stare.

“Slow...down,” he utters again, his fingers coming up to brush a few stray strands of hair away from your face.

Feeling him press his throbbing length against your entrance, you nod lightly as you feel him slowly push in, his eyes fluttering closed as a moan emanates from your lips.

And when he had fully sheathed himself, he stopped.

Opening his eyes as he strokes your cheek with his thumb, he presses his lips against yours in a long, drawn-out kiss before pulling back and dipping his face into the crook of your neck.

And then? He began to thrust.

Low and slow, grinding his hips into you as the slow build of electricity creates a sheen on you both, you feel him interlace his hands with yours as he pins them above you, his eyes closed as his lips part lightly, your gasps and groans making him twitch inside of you as you run the tips of your toes up and down the backs of his legs.

“Oh, Y/N,” he breathes, your eyes fluttering closed as you feel the slow build of pressure with every painfully slow thrust his hips make against your body, his length stretching against your tight walls every single time.

Biting down on your lower lip as you stifle a moan, your pleasure slowly growing as he begins picks up his pace, he lets go of your hands as he props himself up on either side of your torso, his lips placing one more kiss on your neck before raising up to meet your hungry gaze.

Watching him search your face, his gears turning as he sits inside of you, you nod your head slowly, as if to urge him on in his unspoken desire.

Feeling him pull out quickly, he grabs your legs and turns you around, your body raising up on all fours as he grabs the base of his dick, finding your entrance before shoving himself back in, a groan passing through your lips as he grabs onto your hips, his fingernails digging in as he begins a steady rhythm, the pressure growing hotter inside your core as you feel him wrap his hand into your hair.

“Oh, fuck!” you call out, your head rearing back as he begins to slam harder into you, impressed at the pace his aged body can keep as you feel the walls of yourself clenching down upon his length.

“David...David,” you moan in surprise, “Fuck! Ooooooh, goooooood,” you groan deeply, feeling your arms tremble as you yell out into the wine room, your body shaking from your orgasm as your walls pump down onto him, his skin slapping against yours one last time before filling you to the brim, pulling out, and pumping the rest onto your ass cheeks.

“Oh...jesus,” you groan, sinking your chest into the floor as your ass stays in the air.

And still, Rossi hadn’t made a peep other than his heavy gasps and intermittent grunts.

Feeling your knees slowly slip out from under you, you feel his arms wrap around your waist as he helps you to your feet, your body stumbling as you feel his essence dripping down the inside of your leg.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he finally says, a small, kind smile dancing along his lips as he steadies you with his arm around your waist.

“Yes. Lets,” you utter breathlessly, leaning against him as he ushers you out of the room and back into the main part of the house.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Well,” the woman says, “what a twist.”

“A regular Shyamalan,” you utter, your head lobbing back towards her as you feel your other eye finally peel itself open.

“Hello!” the woman sing-songs, holding her arms out as you look at her devilish form from both eye sockets.

“So...you like wine, huh?” she asks.

“Suuuuure do,” you drawl.

“No liquor? Cocktails? Martinis?”

“Nope,” you say, popping the “p”, “liquor’s gross.”

“Oh, really?” the woman says, seemingly shocked at this admission.

“Why’s that?” she asks.

You felt this heading in a bad direction.

“Takes like piss,” you hiss, leaning forward as your restraints catch your body.

“You mean...like this?”

Watching as she gets up, she dips down in front of you, feeling her fingers start at your ankle and slide all the way up to your knee, wiping at the urine trail your body keeps producing because of all the water she seems hell-bent on pumping through your system, as she holds her fingers to your mouth.

Clenching your jaw shut, you watch as her smile quickly fades.

“Open wide, whore,” she enunciates.

And as tears begin to prickle your eyes, you slowly unhinge your jaw, feeling her shove her fingers inside as you close your mouth, the taste of piss lingering on your tongue as the woman’s eyes widen with delight.

“That’s it, you _poon_. Take this dick,” she mutters before shoving her fingers all the way back to your throat, crooking them up as she triggers your gag reflex, pulling her fingers out as you begin to vomit all over your lap, the bits of food that she was giving you spewing up all over your dirty, smelly, disgusting work attire as you try to catch your breath.


	8. The Truth of the Tales

Waking up that morning, groggy and sore from the activities from the previous evening, you pick up your phone off of the bedside table as Rossi’s arm squeezes around your waist tighter.

“Don’t go,” he groans, shifting his body closer to yours.

Smiling lightly to yourself, you swipe the screen, only to find 4 missed called and several text messages from Garcia.

Y/N, are you awake?

Y/N, please pick up.

Call me when you get this.

Y/N...please...

Feeling your eyes widen, your heart rate quickens as you press the call button, muttering to yourself as you hear a tired Garcia answer the phone.

“Hello...?” she croaks.

“Penelope,” you say.

“Oh god, Y/N,” she says, clearing her throat as she yawns, “I’m so sorry for bombarding your phone last night,” she says.

“What happened?” you ask as you sit up, Rossi following quickly, a look of concern on his face as he furrows his brow.

“Lots of drinking...possibly an argument with Kevin...” she lulls off.

“I’ll be right there” you say, throwing the covers off of you as you feel Rossi grab your wrist.

“I’ve got something you can take with you,” he says as you hang up the phone, his naked body jumping out of bed as he wiggles into some pants.

Quickly dressing yourself, throwing your glasses on and your hair up, you follow Rossi quickly down the stairs as he begins to rummage around in his fridge.

“There we are,” he says, handing you a tupperware container with some sort of covered pastry in it.

“She loves this stuff,” he says, smiling as he places it in your hands.

“Alright,” you say, nodding in punctuation as you look back up at him.

“Thank you,” he says as he moseys over to his coffee maker, brewing up a quick cup for you as he grabs the empty thermos tipping out of the top of your overnight bag.

“It’s not a problem,” you smile lightly, piling the tupperware dish into your bag as Rossi pours some sweat cream and sugar into your coffee before screwing the top back on and handing your thermos to you.

“Drive safe,” he says, his eyes watching your lips as they purse around your thermos, your eyes fluttering closed as he leans in and kisses your cheek.

“Let me know if she’s alright,” he whispers against your skin.

“I will, David,” you say, opening your eyes and turning your head towards his, your noses nuzzling his lightly as you giggle.

“I promise,” you whisper.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rapping heavily on Garcia’s door, you finally see the doorknob turning as you stand there in your sweatpants and tank-top, your disheveled hair thrown into a messy bun as your flip flops click below you, pushing your way through the door.

Turning around as you take in her reddened face and her puffy eyes, you embrace her in a large hug as you give her a kiss on her cheek.

“From David,” you say, unbeknownst to you, giving away where you were last night.

But if she caught it, she didn’t show it.

“Thanks,” she whispers, sniffling lightly as she opens the tupperware, smiling ever so lightly as she goes to grab a fork.

“I love this stuff,” she snickers.

Going over and sitting on her couch, you pat the seat cushion next to you, begging her to sit down and talk.

“What happened, beautiful?” you coo, your fingers wrapping her hair behind her ear as she chews on a big bite of the honey-pastry goodness.

“He wanted to propose,” she whimpers.

As your eyes widen, your hand flies to her knee as you squeeze reassuringly.

You didn’t know much about the bouncing colorful beauty, but you did know that losing her parents took an incredible toll on her ability to latch on to other people.

“...and you didn’t want to marry him,” you state.

“It’s not him! I just...don’t want to get married in general. At least, not yet...” she trails off.

“And that’s alright,” you soothe, rubbing her leg as she takes another large bite.

“But he left. He...he s-said that...”

Watching the tears stream down her face broke your heart.

“Sssshhhh...” you soothe, your fingers dancing along her leg as she wipes away her tears.

“He said that he was ready for that, with me. But, if I wasn’t ready, then he needed to find someone that was ready...you know, to take that step with him,” she chokes out.

They didn’t have a fight.

They broke up.

“Oh, Penelope,” you muse.

Draping your arms around her, hearing the tupperware dish clatter to the ground, you feel her wrap her arms around you tightly, pulling you close as she sobs into the crook of your neck.

“I love him so much. Why couldn’t he just be happy with the way things were?” she sobs.

And that, you didn’t have an answer for.

“I...I don’t know, Penelope,” you lull, kissing her ear lightly as you rub her back with your hands, “I wish I did.”

Sitting on the couch for a good half hour, with Penelope crying on and off in your lap, you feel her sobs quiet down as her breathing begins to slowly even out, your hands slowly working their way through her hair as you untangle the knots from the previous evening of what you assumed had held much tossing and turning.

“I love you, Penelope,” you whisper as she curls herself up on the couch, digging her head deeper into your lap as you brush her hair back from her face.

“...and you will be alright,” you finish as you reach over her body, pulling the blanket up off of the floor and covering her body up so she could rest.

And there you stayed until she woke up, just after lunch-time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As Hotch furrows his brow deep, the team standing around as they watch...and listen...to the stories drip from your mouth, Hotch looks quickly around at his equally confused colleagues as he asks the looming question.

“Are any of these stories true?” he asks.

“No,” Rossi says, shaking his head.

“Not quite...” Morgan responds.

“Not in the slightest,” Spencer lulls, his eyes widening at the screen as everyone slowly pans their gaze over to him.

“So, why is she lying?” J.J. asks, tears streaming down her face as her voice falters.

“Maybe she’s trying to tell us something?” Prentiss shrugs, her hands trembling in fear as they watch you get slapped around on the screen after concluding your falsified story on Penelope.

“Maybe she knows she’s going to get tortured anyway, so why break doctor-patient confidentiality?” Garcia muses as she shuffles into the room.

“Please tell me you have something,” Hotch pleads, his eyes desperate as he whips his head over towards her figure.

“I’m working on it now, boss,” she says as tears fall down her cheeks.

“We should’ve forced her into that safe-house,” Morgan bites.

“You know Y/N,” Rossi huffs, “can’t force her to do anything she isn’t willing to do.”

“Do you know this from experience!?” Spencer exclaims, his eyes shooting over at Rossi as his expression grows wild.

“Hell no, kid, but from the little bit of her that she has shown us, she’s a hell of a tough cookie,” Rossi lulls, his eyes glistening with tears as he hears another crack land hard on your body, your voice wailing over the speaker system as Emily closes her eyes, grimacing as she turns her face from the television screen.

“Do we have to keep watching this, Hotch?” J.J. breathes, her sobs wracking her chest.

“As hard as this is-”

Stopping as he tries to regulate his breathing, Hotch continues.

“As hard as this is, we have to keep looking for any signs, clues, potential code words...anything...as to where she might be held.”

“If my algorithms are of any use, we’ll know in a couple of minutes,” Garcia chokes out as they all turn their heads back to the screen.

“Hang on,” Spencer whispers, “just hang on. We’re coming.”


	9. Aaron Hotchner Truth

“I’ve got something!” Garcia exclaims as she comes shuffling down the hallway.

“Lemme see,” Morgan says, taking the piece of paper from her as furrows his brow, his stare raising as his heart begins to pound.

“Hotch! We have an address!” he roars down the hall as the team stops and turns to him.

“Everyone to the SUV’s. It’s our only lead, so everyone goes,” he says.

Turning back towards the television, your once-live broadcast now private only to the BAU’s television...thanks to the tech-goddess Garcia...a lonely tear leaks out of his left eye as he watches your groaning figure on the screen, blood dripping down various parts of your body as his chest gives a hearty heave.

“Come on!” he roars, turning on his heels as he heads for the elevator, “Let’s go get our Wellness Director,” he says.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In your mind, it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter whether you told the truth or not, as long as you convinced the woman you were telling the truth. She wasn’t cunning enough to know any better, and you figured that if you were going to die, you would at least hold true to the oath you took while in school.

Their trust in your ability to keep a secret was all you had of them now.

Closing your eyes as you feel your temples throbbing, a searing pain begins to set in your upper thigh as you tilt your aching head forward, your face lunging down onto your chest as you open your tired, sore eyes.

The smell that hit you was horrendous.

The large gash, inflicted some hours ago, open to the dank, dark earth that surrounded your body in what you assumed was a sewage basement of some sort, was now growing green with infection.

And you knew that if no one found you, the need for an amputation would kill you before she would.

The thought paralyzed you. You had kept up your antics because, with a team like yours, you figured the scars would add a sex appeal that you didn’t possess until this particular encounter. That, somehow, you could spin them to their needs in some way, taking this horrific time in your life and using it for the betterment of your team.

Listen to you, putting them first even in the wake of your impending death.

But the truth was, you had gotten to know much about your team in the past two years of your employment, and seen various changes within them as they continued to work and travel their paths.

You smiled at the thought of them as your memories stand at attention, the first one flooding your mind being none other than the man that had changed right before your eyes.

The man whom you only addressed as Aaron.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were truthful about the dinner...about putting Jack to bed and being startled when Hotch had invited you to stay over.

But not about anything else.

Closing your eyes as you take in a deep breath, the entire memory comes flooding back to your mind:

Staring at him, his arm blocking you from maneuvering around him, you slowly pan your gaze up to his face as his eyes darken.

And as you watched him sneak closer, his breath hot on your lips as your eyes half-hood themselves, you watch as a light grin upticks the side of his mouth before pressing his face to yours, his tongue swiping out as you part your lips willingly, his hands slowly sliding down your torso before wrapping around your waist.

“Come with me,” he mumbles in a low voice as he picks you up, your arms wrapped around his neck as he walks you into his darkened bedroom, slowly laying you down onto the bed as he peppers kisses on your neck.

Letting out a shuddering gasp, you feel him kick off his shoes, but before you move to do the same he catches your calves, separating your legs as he presses his growing loin into your center.

“Keep them on,” he hums.

Nodding lightly, you feel him stand you up, his hands grasping at the flow of your dress as he rips it over your head, exposing your rosy pink lingerie as his fingers move to the clasp between your bouncing breasts.

Never exchanging a word, he peels your bra off, his eyes dancing around your flushed skin as he picks your breast up in his hand, squeezing it gently before dipping his lips down to it, your head lobbing back as you let out a light moan.

Dipping back down onto the bed, his arms working his unbuttoned shirt off, you feel him trickle kisses all the way down to your naval as you hear his pants clatter to the floor.

Feeling his body rush back up, he crashes his lips into yours as you dip your hands down, removing yourself from your g-string as you wrap your arms around his waist, pulling him close as you whimper at the thin cotton layter of his boxers.

Opening your eyes as you watch Hotch study you, you smile lightly as you bring your hand to cup his cheek.

And just as quickly as the moment had appeared, it disappeared as he flips you over his body, your legs straddling him as his throbbing dick protrudes out from between the folds of his boxers, your hips grinding into him as you slowly take his length inside of you.

“Oh, god,” Hotch desperately whispers, his fingertips flying to your hips as he helps you establish a rhythm as you try to bounce your breasts, making a show of it as his eyes lock lustfully onto your body.

And before you knew it, your hips were grinding and bouncing on top of his, his teeth gritted as you lean forward to brace yourself against his chest, giving yourself leverage as well as steadiness as Hotch begins to moan and writhe underneath you.

“That’s it. Ooh, yes... please Y/N...just like that.”

You enjoyed how vocal he was becoming.

Whimpering and panting, your pelvis grinding deeply into him, you hear his breath hitch as his legs begin to shake just as his fingertips dig into you furiously, causing you to drop down and crash your lips onto him, swallowing the yelps and moans of his orgasm so as to not wake Jack.

Slowing your pace down as he fills you to the brim, his warm seed seeping out and down his balls, you feel yourself sink down next to him, your legs spread out as his juices begin to run all over the bed-sheets.

“Beautiful,” he says as he rolls over, shimmying his body in between your legs as you furrow your brow, lifting your heavy head to look at him as he kisses your center lightly.

“Aaron...?” you breathe as he kisses your center again, this time making you jump.

“I want you screaming my name by the time I’m done,” he growls.

“W-wha-?”

But before you could finish your sentiment, he had sunk down in with his tongue, lapping up the mixture of you and him as he groans into your pussy, your highs clenching down around his head as your hands fly to his hair.

This wasn’t going to take long.

Bucking against him as the looming pressure builds, you find yourself moaning and babbling obscenities as his name drips from your lips.

“Oh god, Aaron. Yes. Pl-pl-plee-uuuuuh. Lick...lick harder. Pleeeease, Aaron, pleeeeease...”

Groaning in desperation as a sheen of sweat begins to gather on your flushing chest, you throw your hands out to the side and grip the sheets as your shoulders arch off of the bed, your mouth tearing open as you groan his name into the room, his tongue flattening out over your throbbing clit as your body twitches and convulses at his every touch, his mouth sucking you in as another orgasm barrels into your first, causing your body to thrash and your legs to kick as his hands grip down tightly upon your hips, leaving behind marks as he holds you close to him.

Riding his face as you finally come down off of your high, your chest heaving audibly as you try to catch your breath, you feel Hotch snake up your side as he wraps his arms around your waist, turning you onto your side and cuddling you in close to his chest.

“Get some rest. We have a long week ahead of us,” he mumbles into your ear, kissing it lightly as he settles down beside you for the night.

But you lips couldn’t utter a sound.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“First time I’ve seen you do that,” the woman says.

“Yeah, well...good memories,” you sigh.

Trying to lift your head on your own, you feel her grab your chin with her fingers, digging into the sides of your mouth as she forces your gaze upward, your mouth prying open at her insistence as she shoves a spoonful of something into your mouth.

“Eat,” she spits.

Chewing on the gummy substance, you grimace as you swallow, watching her lips lightly uptick in a disgustingly devilish grin as she sits back down in the chair in front of you.

“Do you know what that was?” she asks.

“Your rotting heart?” you throw back, spitting a mixture of blood and spit onto the floor next to you as she harrumphs.

“I enjoy your spiccccce,” she hisses, leaning forward and placing her elbows on her knees, “but, sadly, no. Twas nothing but a nutrition supplement.”

“How plain,” you lull, rolling your eyes as you try with all of your might to steady your head on your shoulders, secretly thrilled that it was nothing other than that..

But you were so tired.

And so sore.

And so broken...

“I’ll let you rest for now,” she says, waving her hand in the air as she stands, “my pise de resistance is planned for tomorrow, anyway.”

“I already know you’re going to kill me,” you lull, trying to sound bored.

“Oh, I’m not going to kill you...” she says as you feel your brow furrow.

“...your team is.”


	10. David Rossi Truth

Swerving down the highway as the team weaves in and out of the traffic, Rossi white knuckles the steering wheel as Spencer gets thrown around in the back.

“Come on,” Rossi growls, throttling the gas pedal once again as he takes a sharp right, careening off onto an exit.

“You will reach your destination in 10 minutes,” the GPS says.

“I know!” he roars, slamming the steering wheel as the girls behind him take the sharp left, following him and the police cars down the road.

“Rossi, it won’t do us any good if we’re dead before we get to her,” Morgan tries to calm his teammate down.

“Got it, chocolate,” he slings, gritting his teeth as he takes a sharp right, careening through a gate as the cop cars follow him.

Feeling his phone vibrate, Morgan picks it up off of his hip.

“Talk to me, beautiful,” he says.

“We’ve got a problem...” Garcia starts.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As your mind reels with what the woman could mean, your body begins to tremble with your exhaustion.

“Just close your eyes,” the voice in your head says, “just get some rest.”

“No,” you groan, lobbing your head forward as you fight to keep your eyes open.

“Just a little ressssssst...” the voice whispers.

“No...please...” you murmur, your mouth chewing on your words as your jaw begins to slacken.

“It will feel _goooooood_ ,” the voice hums.

“Oh...huhhhhhhhhh,” you breathe out, feeling your eyes droop closed.

And on the inside of your eyelids danced your evening with Rossi:

Everything had been wonderful, how kind he was to take your coat and bag, how beautiful dinner had been, how marvelous it had tasted, how lush the wine was running past your tongue as you gazed upon his wine collection.

And then, he had taken your glass from you.

“Dance with me,” he says as David holds out his hand.

Smiling coyly as you slip your hand into his, he pulls you close, his lips next to your ear as he drapes his hand over the dip in your lower back.

“Che bella cosa na jurnata 'e sole...”

“Mmmmm,” you hum into his ear, your temple upon his cheek as he slowly begins to dance you around the room to his song in your ear.

“...n'aria serena doppo na tempesta...”

Placing a chaste kiss just below his ear, you feel him drop your hand, wrapping his other arm around your waist as he pulls you close, your arms close around his neck as he continues singing lightly in your ear.

“Pe' ll'aria fresca pare gia na festa...Che bella cosa na jurnata 'e sole.”

And then...out of nowhere, you began to sing lightly with him.

“Ma n'atu sole, cchiu bello, oje ne'...'o sole mio sta 'nfronte a te...”

And as Rossi pulls you out in front of him, his arms grasping your shoulders as his smile broadens, your vibrato’d voice causing his eyes to well with tears, he brings his hand to your cheek as he begins to harmonize with your voice.

“'O sole, o sole mio...sta 'nfronte a te! sta 'nfronte a te.”

Giggling at each other as his eyes dance across your face, he brings his other hand to your back, guiding your body back to his as he kisses you lightly, your knees shaking from underneath you as you buckle into him.

“La mia bella donna...” he murmurs, his eyes gazing into yours as you pull yourself back up to him, crashing your lips back upon his as he wraps his arms around you tight.

Sinking down onto the carpeted floor of the wine room...which you assume that, by Rossi’s play with women, the carpet installation was intentional...you feel him deepen the kiss, his tongue slowly playing in and out of your mouth as his fingertips dance along the leg you’ve wrapped around him.

“Bellissima,” he whispers into your lips, his eyes opening as you begin to lightly pant.

“Perfezionare,” he smiles, caressing the apple of your cheek with his thumb as you bring your other leg up and wrap it around his hips.

“Oh...” he breathes, his face dipping down into the crook of your neck as his hands slide up both of your legs, reaching your lacy underwear as he plays with the delicate fabric.

“Incantevole...” he growls, wrapping his fingers in the fabric and slowly leaning up, guiding your legs out of your panties as he takes your shoes with it.

Holding out his hands, he helps you stand up, his hands spinning you around slowly as he slowly undoes the zipper on your dress, your bare breasts freeing themselves as the dress slides to the ground, your smooth legs stepping out of the fabric as Rossi rushes his hands along your stomach, pulling your back flush with his clothed chest as his soft fingertips, with so much experience and wisdom behind them, dance lovingly around on your torso, twirling around your nipples and tracing the lines of your curves as you lob your head back onto his shoulder.

“Oh, David,” you breathe, your body heating up under his soft touches as he leans his head down and kisses the side of your neck.

“You are stunning,” he murmurs against your skin, his lips dancing feather-like as your body begins to shiver.

Slowly turning your body in his grasp, your sultry eyes meet his kind gaze as your fingers travel to the buttons on his black shirt, slowly trailing them down as you pull the fabric from his pants, pushing it off of his shoulders as your hands work his tank top underneath off, your palms pressing into his bare chest as you lean in and place a chaste kiss on his sternum.

Allowing your hands to venture lower as Rossi’s mouth captures yours once again in a feather-like dance of tongue and breath, you find yourself undoing his belt, slipping it from his trousers as you undo his pants, pushing them down his legs as you feel him step out.

His touch was soft, and sensual...and his Italian tongue was dangerous.

“Mi permetta di gusto,” he pleads into your ear, slowly sinking the two of you back onto the floor and he kisses you down your body, his hands grazing down your sides as your jaw begins to tremble.

You didn’t need to know Italian to know what he meant.

Feeling his tongue dart out lightly as he licks your slit, your breath audibly hitches as his tongue parts your folds, his fingers tracing invisible designs on your hips as you groan and squirm.

Feeling him flick and dart, his tongue splaying out as a loud groan pierces the room, you feel your chest beginning to flush as he pulls back, his lips leaving wet kiss stains behind as he travels back up your skin, paying special attention to your nipples as you bring your feet up to work his boxers off.

“Oh, David,” you breathe, arching your back into him as he slips his left arm under the small of your back, splaying his strong hand out over it.

“Mio caro,” he breathes as he situates himself in between your legs, his right hand reaching down to guide himself slowly into you as your eyes widen as the sensation.

He had much more girth than you would have expected.

Hearing him chuckle, he must have caught your reaction.

“Sorry...” you blush, biting down on your lower lip as he slowly begins to rock into you.

“Never be,” he says lowly, his right hand planting itself on the carpet beside you as his left hand pulls your body close to him, your arms around his neck as your fingertips travel down his back, his hips keeping a slow, lazy pace as you match his slow thrusts.

“You are beautiful,” he says, looking into your eyes as you smile back at him, your cheeks flushing furiously at his lavish compliments.

And then, you felt it.

That slow, pressuring build.

“Ooooooh, David,” you moan, your head lobbing back as your eyes flutter closed, your legs wrapping tighter around him as your arms fall out to your sides.

“Yes,” he whispers, planting his left hand into the carpet as he slowly picks up his pace, his girth pressing forcefully up against the back-side of your clit as you begin to buck up into his hips.

“Please...” you whisper, your hands flying into his hair as you pull his face into a kiss.

Flipping him over, his back on the carpet as you straddle him, you place your hands within his as you intertwine your fingers, Rossi’s eyes dancing along your body in the dimmed light of the moon streaming through the one window in the hidden cavern as your eyes look down upon him, a sheen appearing on his chest as you begin to rock just a little faster.

“Oh, mi amore,” he breathes, his hands letting go of yours as he trails them to your breasts, your hands planting themselves firmly on his chest as he presses his hands into your chest, digging his fingertips in just a little as his hands slip down to meet your waist.

Keeping in time with the lazy pace, you feel your eyes involuntarily roll back as your hand slowly migrates in between the folds of your aching entrance.

“No, no,” Rossi says quickly, moving your hand as he replaces your fingers with his, “let me.”

Feeling the rough pads of his fingers slowly encircle your clit through you over the edge in no time.

Raising upright as you lob your head back, you buck his throbbing length up against your g-spot as your jaw unhinges, a guttural yelp escaping your throat as your body shakes and clamps around him, his legs growing more and more taut as he lifts his hips up to meet yours.

“Il mio...bellissimo...angelo,” he grunts out, his hands flying to your hips as he grips down, his orgasm rocking his body as you call out into the room, his juices pumping into your overly sensitive g-spot as you tremble with every twitch of his length.

And as he comes down from his high, your body growing limp as you begin to crumble on top of him, he raises up quickly and catches your falling body as he slowly pulls out of you, helping your body lay to the side as he brushes the hair lovingly out of your eyes before sinking down next to you, his lips pressing softly into your collarbone as he pulls you close, the warmth of his skin calming your trembling body as your eyes begin to close tight.

But it was the last thing he said before the two of you fell asleep in the wine room together that night that would always ring loudly within your mind:

“Even those who give all of themselves need something given to them in return.”


	11. Emily Prentiss Truth

(Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10)

 

“What do you mean ‘a problem’?” Morgan bites as Rossi slams on his breaks.

“The address we have is right, but the only lower area is in the sewers,” Garcia says as she clacks away on her keyboard, sniffing her tears away as her eyes dart across her screen.

“Alright, well get us in the sewer system!” Morgan exclaims as Rossi and Hotch turn their heads to look back at him as he holds his phone out and puts her on speaker.

“I can, but you have to backtrack two miles,” she says quickly.

“Two miles!?” Rossi exclaims.

“Yeah. You need to get into the main sewer system, it looks like, before you hit a level where you can slide down, which is the level she’s actually on, because on the schematics it’s the only level that has an area under that address.”

“Thanks, baby girl,” Morgan says.

“Find her!” Garcia exclaims before cutting off the phone call.

“Hotch-” Rossi starts.

“Already on it,” Hotch says as he puts his phone to his ear, calling the girls in the other SUV to update them on the location.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Wake _uuuuuuuup_!”

Jolting awake as the woman douses you in a bucket of cold water, your nipples rise to painful peaks underneath your dirty work attire as another one hits you from behind, causing you to cry out in pain as your muscles contract and begin shivering.

“You’re **filthy** ,” she spits as she topples another one on your head.

“Please stop,” you whimper, your teeth beginning to clatter together as the woman dips down into your field of vision.

“Oh, does the little piece of trash want a break? I thought your job was to indulge my every whim and neeeeeeed,” she mockingly whimpers with her bottom lip thrust out.

And without thinking, you lash out, jutting your head as far forward as your neck will allow, encompassing her mouth within yours as you bite down on her lip, ripping backwards as you hear a disgusting tearing sound, the tie on her lower lip popping as blood begins to pour from her mouth.

“Waaaaaah!” the woman screams.

Bringing her hand to her mouth as she watches the blood pool into her hand, she brings her eyes back up to you as you try to regulate your breathing amongst the shivering your body is doing to keep yourself warm.

“ _Stupid_ little-”

“There’s your indulgence, _bitch_ ,” you spit, cutting her sentiment off as you bear your teeth at her.

Watching her tremble with anger, fear rises in your throat as you feel someone approach you from behind.

As the woman opens her mouth to scream, a piercing roar emanating from her throat as she thrusts her hands around your neck, you try to gasp and writhe for air as a large man places his strong hands on your shoulders, holding you still as your vision begins to tunnel.

Feeling someone’a hand come down on your infected leg, they dig their finger into your open, seeping wound, causing a piercing wail to erupt from your throat as you begin to shake and sob, your demeanor finally melting away as the woman with her hand around your throat begins to throatily laugh, the pain in your leg so intense you feel the air physically being ripped from your lungs.

“You will die tonight,” she says as your eyes begin to lob into the back of your head.

“...and there’s _nothing_ you can do about it.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Emily’s story was pretty much the biggest lie. There was no dinner. There was no invitation to her apartment.

There was never even dessert.

Emily gets her rocks off by pushing boundaries.

You found yourself, in your unconscious state of strangulation and walloping pain, dwelling on a rather distinct memory of Emily much like this one.

You remember coming in very early that morning after greeting the team home from a case, knowing you wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep after the longer-than-usual hugs that lingered along with the empty glances and the slumped shoulders.

The tougher cases always prompted an early arrival on your part, just in case someone didn’t feel like going home.

So you had pulled your own go-bag from your backseat, showered in the locker room, made a pot of bland coffee in the break room, and took up residence in your office to start on the mound of paperwork you had neglected to do at the turn of the year.

Sitting down in your chair as you kick your heels off, you lay your head back against the chair as you feel something drape quickly around your eyes, your hands flying to your face as you scramble with your finger nails to get it off.

Feeling the knot tie your head to the chair, you hear someone’s voice deep within your ear.

“Sssssshhhhhh....”

“E-E-...Emily?” you breathe, feeling the tears cascade down your face as your trembling hands place themselves lightly on the armrests.

“Uuuuh huh,” she punctuates as she begins to quickly bind your hands with rope to the chair, your brow furrowing as she finishes and leans in to kiss your cheek lightly.

“We’re aaaaall alone,” she lulls as you hear her walk away, clicking the light switch off as you hear the familiar sounds of the blinds ricocheting closed.

“Yeah,” you breathe, “yeah, we are.”

Hearing sounds you don’t recognize, you hear her walk back over as she straddles your lap, something stiff and large grinding into your stomach.

“I’m gonna fuck you better than any of the men in this office can,” she muses, bending down and pressing her lips to yours as your legs begin to quiver.

“Emily...do you...do you want to talk about it?” you ask.

You knew when she came at you hard in your office that the prior case had triggered a painful memory, and while she never talked about it, you always made sure to offer.

“Maybe one day...” she whispers, trailing the sentiment off as the pain drips from her voice.

“Alright,” you whisper back, a light smile caressing your cheeks as you feel her run her thumb lightly along your bottom lip.

It was the first time she never out-rightly said “no.”

Feeling her lips attach to your neck, her lips fluttering over your skin as she trails them down your sternum, she brings her hands up and kneads your breasts above your shirt, pushing your cleavage together as she buries her face into it.

“You have the most voluptuous chest,” she murmurs into your skin, leaving her hot breath as a sentiment as she begins to unbutton your sheer overlay, pushing it back as her fingers trail up your skin, dancing along your stomach as her hands push your tank top along with it.

Feeling your breath hitch as she slips your pants off of your body, you hear her hum in appreciation as she kneads your inner thighs, the bits of fat that you could never exercise away bringing her pleasure as she lightly nips at them with her teeth.

You always jumped at the sensation.

“Ooooh...” you breathe.

Realizing she had slid your panties off with your pants, you feel her tongue slowly snake up to your center, your feet planting into the floor as you try to get your wrists free.

But all she did was chuckle at your effort.

“Oh, sweet girl,” she says as her fingers slowly part your folds, “how you try.”

Groaning as she presses her tongue into you, you buck your hips against her before she pinches your thigh.

“Ah!” you squeal as you jump.

“No. Moving,” she says as she continues licking you, your body growing taut as you try your best to stay still despite your overwhelming need to buck against her beautiful tongue.

“Oh, Emily,” you moan as you dig your feet further into the ground, “Oh...oh, god,” you breathe.

Feeling her tongue rake and slip all over your clit drove you to press your head back into the chair cushion, crying out in frustration as your body takes over what your mind is trying to override.

Bucking against her wildly, she holds your legs up as your lower back arches out, your stomach caving in on itself as she brings your knees to your chest, licking you wildly as you squirm underneath her.

“Oh god...fuck me...fuuuuuuuuck,” you throatily groan.

“ _Fuck_ you?” Emily ask as she stops abruptly, licking her lips as you begin to whimper.

“Don’t mind if I do,” she says.

And with that, she stands up, picking your hips up off of the chair and bringing them to her as she slides her strap-on inside of you, your jaw dropping at its girth as she chuckles lowly.

“I bet the men of this office don’t have dicks like this,” she says.

And that’s when you realize that someone has belittled her. Time and time again in her life...they made her feel second-rate. Stuck in the corner of a thrift shop and left to collect dust.

And the thought made you gulp back tears.

As she slides into you, slowly bottoming out, her hips settle in between your legs as a guttural groan escapes your throat as she begins to pound into you, turning on a vibration setting as you begin to cry out into the room, not caring if anyone walks into the office and hears you.

“Ooooh, my god!” you yell as your entire core begins to vibrate, a pulsating knob banging against your clit with every thrust Prentiss makes into your body.

“Oh god, please. Please, please, please, please.”

Chanting as your fingertips dig into the armrests of the chair, you hear Prentiss begin to pant as she digs her fingers into your hips, sure to leave marks as she speeds up her pounding.

“You like that?” she says through gritted teeth.

“Yes. Ooooooh, my gooooood, yes,” you groan.

“Cum for me, beautiful,” she whispers.

“Yes yes yes yes yes,” you whisper, chanting to an invisible god you don’t believe exists.

And before you could get another word out, your body pulls itself taut as your precipice wracks your body, your tremors and contractions pulling Emily close to you as you wrap your legs around her tight, the vibrations rattling you both as you hear her groan through her teeth, her hands flying to your breasts as she palms them deeply, your core jumping as the vibrations continue to make you squirm and jump as your sensitive clit builds for yet another orgasm.

“Yes,” Emily whispers as she bends down and kisses your trembling lips, “yes, Y/N.”

And feeling yet another burst of passion, her lips barreling onto yours as your body clamps down on her vibrating dildo for a second time, you cry out into her mouth before she releases your tongue, peppering your neck with kisses, her legs trembling underneath her as she falls to the floor, her head in your lap as the vibrations knock against the plastic legs of the office chair.

Heaving heavily to catch your breath as your legs finally stop trembling, your body draws itself still, weak from its workout as the sheen of sweat begins to glisten on your skin.

Feeling Emily’s lips press into the insides of your thighs, you feel her reach up and untie your wrists, her hands lingering against yours before dropping them down to the floor.

Reaching behind the chair as you undo the knot, the blindfold falls from your eyes as you blink away the darkness, surveying the pile of a woman on the floor in front of you, her shoulders shaking as she cries.

And as you stay silent, sliding out from the chair as your haphazardly clothed body slinks down next to her, you pull her shaking body into your lap as you hold her close, kissing the top of her head as you rock slowly side to side.

You had finally broken a barrier with her.

Just like you had with the woman.


	12. Derek Morgan Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: if a light is shined upon this chapter, the smut can be seen as forced. Read with caution.

As the SUV’s and police cars begin to block off the road, a construction crew arrives to pry the lid off of the manhole in the middle of the road as the team stands around, strapping themselves into their vests and checking the rounds in their guns.

“Alright guys,” Hotch begins, “according to the schematics, we have just shy of three miles of piping to navigate before sliding down an embankment and taking a tunnel straight ahead to a dump out.”

“Are we trying to bring the unsub in alive?” Emily asks, her brow stern as her nostrils flare.

And for a second, Hotch paused.

“Whatever gets Y/N out alive,” he commands.

Hearing a grinding clank, the construction men pry the lid off to the side just as someone turns on a flood light and directs it down into the opening.

“Let’s go get our girl,” Rossi says with a smirk on his face.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As your ragged breathing begins to burn your throat, your eyes fly open as you feel a tightness closing around your esophagus, your skin burning as the pain makes you grit your teeth.

You wouldn’t give her any more satisfaction.

“Oh, playing hard to get, are we?” the woman chimes.

Staring at her as you breathe heavily through your nose, the rope prickling your exposed skin as you feel the slow trickles of blood run down into your chest, you watch as the hellacious human being in front of you crosses her legs.

“I hear your team is in the sewers,” she says with a smile, “won’t be long now.”

But all you did was stare.

Feeling the rope drop from your neck as your audible breathing slowly dissipates, you watch as the woman gets up, brushing her shoulder against yours as she dips her lips into your ear.

“Nothing like a little twist,” she whispers, bringing her arm around your back and grasping the chair, tipping it over to the side as you go careening to the ground, your shoulder crunching in pain as your cheek presses into the cold, damp ground, the smell of feces and urine filling your lungs, your eyes begin to water as you hear the clacking of her heels fading away, shutting the huge metal door and locking it behind her.

And here you lay, waiting to choke on someone else’s own flood of excrement as you continue to hang onto a hope.

A hope that the team...

... _your_ team...

...would find you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lying there for what felt like hours, though was nothing but mere seconds, the tears begin to fall as you try desperately to work your wrists and legs free, only tightening the binds around them every time you struggled.

You remember Morgan telling you about a couple of those knots.

He had taught you how to tie those knots.

The knots that now bound you to your death.

Morgan.

Derek fucking Morgan.

Closing your eyes as your jaw begins to tremble, the pain throughout your body becoming too much as your body begins to shake, your mind races with thoughts of your encounter with him.

Your only encounter with him.

The one where he was drunk.

The one where you had gotten him from the bar downtown, piled him into the car, taken him home, cleaned him up when he had gotten sick, and laid him down in bed, only for him to grasp your wrist as you turned to go clean down the bathroom.

“No,” he had groaned.

No..no no...not groaned…

Growled.

“Derek, your bathr-”

But before you could complete your sentence, he had pulled you down onto the bed, your mind praising yourself for the mouthwash you had made him use in the bathtub as he crashed his face painfully into yours, your nose aching as tears sprung to your eyes, his tongue prying your lips apart as his kisses, sloppy and disorganized, cause you to breathe shallowly as his drunk hands paw at your clothing, grasping your breasts just a bit too hard and gripping your waist just a bit too tight.

You remember him flipping you over and shoving your nightgown up, his hands roaming over your ass cheeks before bringing his hand back, cracking it against one as he chuckled lowly, watching it bounce.

Laying there, with your head in his bed and your hips in the air, you feel him grab his length, swiping it against your dry slit before slowly pushing in, the pain causing you to moan out as you claw at his sheets, telling yourself that he was drunk and that he needed the release…he needed to forget something.

He needed to rid himself of his thoughts...

He had eventually opened up to you about his molestation as a child. How betrayed and confused...and scared...he had felt. How lost and alone it made him deep inside. How angry he would get at random points in his job, investing more money into the walls of his home than he cared to admit. How his job allowed him to feel powerful and in control, giving him something he never felt as a child.

He talked briefly about his flirtatious relationship with Garcia and how that kept his anger at bay, and how sex was an outlet for it even though he never had the guts to fulfill what he knew...or at least, _thought_...would make him feel better because he was terrified of forming a close enough relationship with a woman to express his sexual wants to her.

In that session, you had told him to feel free with you...if you ever _did_ have an encounter...if it was something he needed at that time.

And apparently…he did.

Gritting your teeth as your toes curl, you feel him thrust slowly, getting your juices flowing along his probing length as your ragged breathing slowly relaxes before sinking his strong fingers into your hips, your face wincing in pain as he begins to pound into you, your pussy not ready for the girth and length that came with such a broad, strong man.

It didn’t feel good.

But this was what he needed, and you were here to help.

Biting down on your lower lip as your body finally adjusts to him, you hear his grunting getting louder, his thrusts becoming more and more uneven as he wraps one of his hands within your hair, yanking your neck back as you yelp out, your hands clawing for the headboard of the bed as Morgan spills himself inside of you.

Throwing your arms back, clawing at his skin as you finally get a grip on the back of his hand, you feel your head drop to the bed quickly as he releases your hair, his huge dick twitching inside of you as his juices stroll down your leg, his body growing limp as he collapses onto your back, crushing your body to the bed as he grunts, rolling off to the side as his eyes flutter closed, him falling asleep as you lay there next to him, breathing deeply before sitting yourself up.

Taking yourself to his bathroom as you clean up the rest of the smell, wiping yourself clean and spraying some air freshener in the room, you go to the kitchen and rummage around, trying to find a piece of paper and a pen as you stand at his kitchen counter, penning him a note for the morning as you try to blink your tears away:

_Derek,_

_I don’t know if you’ll remember last night, and if you don’t that’s fine. But if you do, understand this: please don’t feel bad. Know that, after writing this note, I settled into bed at your side, pulled you close, wrapped you within the confines of my arms and the warmth of your comforter, and slept by your side. Know that I set my phone alarm for 5 am so that I could go home and get cleaned up before work, and that I am not angry with you. Know that you needed this, and that I was there to help._

_If you ever need me, I’m just a phone call away._

_Y/N_

You don’t actually know how he took the note...

He never came into work talking about it.

The team never gathered in a circle to revel in his encounter with you.

And he never _did_ call.

As far as you knew, the team never talked about their encounters with you. That part of the story was just to peak her interest in the hopes that you could continue to put off the pain that the woman was inevitably going to inflict.

What you did know was that Derek Morgan no longer came by to talk, and he never did call you again for your services, emotional or otherwise.

And while it ached your heart that the encounter distanced the two of you, you honestly couldn’t blame him.

Derek _would_ be the kind of man to be scared of his own rage.


	13. Penelope Garcia AND J.J.

As the team drops down into the tunnel, Morgan at the front of the helm as Spencer brings up the rear, they slowly begin to tunnel through the mud and debris, their faces crinkling with the smells assaulting their nose.

Rounding the first corner and taking an immediate left, the team stares down a long, dark, seemingly endless corridor as Hotch’s cell phone vibrates on his hip.

“You got service down here?” Morgan whispers, turning his head behind him as Hotch opens the phone and puts it to his ear.

“Talk to me,” he whispers.

“You guys. You guys. It’s not just the fact that this woman is taking Wellness Directors,” Garcia trembles, “it’s how she’s killing them. You know how you couldn’t find a pattern to her MO? Always different places, difference times of the day, different areas of different cities?”

“Yeah?” Hotch whispers.

“I keep coming across this idea of a booby-trap in the witness testimonies. Team members talking about stepping on something that eventually clicks, or feeling like they’ve tripped a wire, or passing through an opening and swearing the saw a little flash. The booby traps were never confirmed because they could never find any traces of them at the scene of the dumped bodies-”

“Alright, Garcia. We’ll keep an eye out,” Hotch says.

“B-boss?” Garcia shakes.

“Yeah?” he replies.

“Please find her,” she whimpers.

“We will,” Hotch promises.

And as Hotch hangs up his phone, he gathers his team around to rework the profile with the new information, telling them to keep their eyes peeled on where they are walking and the entrances they end up walking through.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your eyes jerk open at the burning sensation along your cheek.

You had been on the ground long enough for the ammonia in your urine to start irritating the skin staying in contact with the ground.

You felt yourself slowly giving up. The team had done their best to teach you things. Rossi was adamant about Morgan teaching you how to defend yourself, being a single woman in the middle of the city. Spencer had been hell-bent on teaching you basic survival tactics, even going so far as to taking you on an extreme camping trip with Emily that had ended in the three of you being airlifted to safety after picking the worst weekend...what with the barrage of storms whipping up the coast.

But you had exhausted every technique you could recall.

Laying on the ground as your ankles and wrists begin to go numb, the searing sensation in your leg falling to the wayside as your body begins to become one with the pain instead of trying to fight it off, you find yourself slowly giving up as you continue to rack your brain, coming up with nothing but definite conclusions.

This was why the authorities had never captured this woman.

Because the booby traps killed the WD’s long after she was gone.

Hotch had begged you to keep a listening device on you. He had begged you, when the Wellness Directors started going missing, to keep an earpiece on you, or a GPS tracker. Anything they could use to hone in on you in case something had happened.

And you had refused time and time again, stating that Morgan’s excellent training would be able to fend off any situation that came your way.

And you say how that made Derek beam with pride.

Your chest began to heave as big, dolloping tears spilled onto the ground, snot quickly pouring from your nose as your heart begins to ache for your team.

But your thoughts drifted to Garcia, the girl you had probably become to closest to.

Your heart ached for her inability to be here with her team. Having to watch the horror through her screens, miles and miles away, not able to do a single thing but sit back and wait for a phone call as her fingers dally quickly over her keyboards.

You closed your sobbing eyes, sniffling back your snot despite the rancid smell of the ground, as you remember your last encounter with Penelope.

You remember thinking that her flirtatious talk with Derek was all hot air. That it was just them playing off of each other’s energies.

Until she finally needed you.

You knew that her and Kevin had broken up. He had actually come to you, discussed with you about how she wasn’t ready to get married and he was. He was looking for someone to tell him he had made a mistake. Someone to agree with him on his idea of going back and graveling at her feet.

But you couldn’t.

You watched Penelope mope around from a distance, Morgan comforting her whenever her shield came down, only for it to be thrown back up as the days went on.

Until she called you one night.

“Hello?” you asked as you picked up the phone.

But all you heard was sniffles.

Holding the phone out as you see Penelope’s name flashing up on your screen, you put it back to your ear as you say, “I’m on my way. Just hold on.”

You had stopped by the grocery store to obtain various dipping fruits and some chocolate to heat up in the microwave as well as a bottle of wine before heading over to her apartment. You had knocked on the door lightly before realizing it was giving way under your hand, slowly pushing it open as you called out her name.

“Penelope?”

Pushing into the apartment as you begin to set the food on the counter, you pop open the bottle of wine as you rummage around for two glasses, settling on two very large coffee mugs as you pour them full of the glorious red liquid, sticking the chocolate in the microwave to melt it down into its velvety texture.

“Penny? I’m here,” you call out again.

“I heard you the first time,” he voice croaked.

Whipping your gaze up as your jaw unhinges, you walk out from around her kitchen into her main living area, your eyes dancing along her body as you take in the corset she was wearing, her breasts shoved up to the base of her neck as she stands there in ripped fishnet stockings and a rather revealing dark purple skirt.

“Wow...” was all you could muster.

“You know, I-...I completely forgot I ordered this stuff for us,” she says as she sniffles hard, her hands running self-consciously over the skirt, “Kevin finally caved to my idea to try some different things out in bed, and this was one of the things I ordered.”

“It’s beautiful,” you breathe, your eyes coming back to look up at her.

“The package took forever to get here...” she trails off.

As her shoulders begin to shake again, you stride over quickly and wrap your arms around her, pulling her close as you run your hands up and down her back.

“Sssshhh...” you coo.

“It’s gonna be alright,” you whisper.

“Who’s gonna want to see me in this now?” she whimpers into your shoulder.

“I mean... _I_ think you look **hot** ,” you say, pulling her out in front of you as a grin spreads across your face.

“Y-you...you do?” she asks, wiping her tears away.

“How about this? Come chug the huge mug of wine I poured for you. Have a few bites of fruit. Then go into your room, get into anything you’d like, and come back out. I’ll play as far as you’re comfortable, and we can make our own memories on a particularly lonely-evening edition of girls’ night.”

Watching her smile brightened your heart as she shuffled over to the mugs of wine, clinking your glasses together as the both of you chugged.

“Oooooooo,” she grimaced, swallowing the last bit as you shook your head.

“That’s what I get for buying cheap,” you breathe.

“I won’t tell Rossi,” Garcia winks as she takes a bite of the watermelon.

“Perfect. He’d kill me if he knew he was teaching me all of these things about wine, only for me to go and buy a six dollar bottle,” you chuckle.

Watching her bound back into her room, you smile as you pick up a grape and toss it into your mouth, your feet moving your body over to her couch as you sit down.

And after about 20 minutes, she emerged in another outfit.

As your eyes take in the lacy pink teddy, her breasts filling the cups up and spilling over the top as her thick thighs round out her sheer underwear perfectly, you feel your eyes widen as she crooks her finger at you.

“Come here,” she murmurs.

Getting up as you slowly walk towards her, you find that, without her high heels, she’s actually shorter than you.

Looking down at her lightly as she traces her finger down your arm, she takes your hand and pulls you into her room, her lights not on except for the Christmas lights lining the base of the walls in her room.

As your eyes fall upon her bed, they stop at the sight of a strap-on dildo, her eyes studying your every reaction as your head slowly turns over to her.

"Nu uh,” you say, a crooked smile upticking on your face as she begins to flush.

“You convinced him to try it!?” you squeal.

You saw her face drop as you gather your excitement back within your body.

“God, Penelope, I’m sorry,” you say, stepping towards her and grabbing her upper arms, “I didn’t mean-”

Watching her as she smiles defeatedly, you lean in lightly and press a kiss to her forehead, her body leaning into you as she wraps her arms around your waist.

“Wanna see what it looks like on me?” you ask.

“Oh, this I gotta see,” Garcia murmurs, a sneaky smile spreading across her cheeks as you begin to chuckle.

Taking a deep breath as you walk around the bed, you feel Penelope’s gaze locked onto you as you slowly begin to shimmy out of your pants, your underwear slipping to the floor as you grab the harness, pulling it taut against your body as you position the dildo in front of you, two protrusions coming out from the back of it as one of them settles onto your clit, the other slipping gently inside your entrance.

Turning to Garcia as you shake it for her, your hips gyrating and your arms out as you give her a cheesy smile, she throws her head back and laughs as she brings her hand to her face, shaking her head as you start to bounce around her, twirling it in mid-air between your legs.

“Y/N!” Penelope yelps as you begins to chase her around the room, her legs lobbing her onto the bed as she screams playfully, scurrying away from you as you start to cat-crawl onto the bed, rearing up on your knees and putting your fists proudly on your hips.

“I look good with a dick, don’t I!?” you exclaim, moving your hips again as you dip down, slapping the side of her leg as both of you continue to roar with laughter.

And then...a knock sounds at Garcia’s front door.

Watching as her eyes widen, she runs for her robe and throws it around her scantily clad body, her hands cautioning you to stay here as you creep slowly to her bedroom door, listening as Garcia throws her front door open, the voice of a familiar person wafting into the room as your eyes widen.

“Hey there. Sorry I’m late,” J.J. says.

Jennifer?

“No, no!” Garcia exclaims, her voice a little too high pitched, “You’re fine!”

“Garcia? You alright?” J.J. asks as you hear Garcia close her apartment door.

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine. Why do you ask?” she says.

You could hear her approaching the door as it quickly shuts in front of you with a thud.

“You’re just acting weird. You invited me over so we could talk man problems, and I just tucked Henry in, and-”

Hearing a lull in the conversation, you hear J.J. begin to audibly whisper.

“Oh my god, is he here!?” she exclaims.

“No! No, Kevin’s not here,” Garcia says, trying to find a way around the situation.

“Garcia...what are you wearing?!” J.J. asks.

“Just my pajamas,” Garcia starts.

“Oh my god, this is lacy!” J.J. squeals.

“I’m so happy for you!” J.J. yelps as you hear Garcia grunt, your eyes peering from the door crack as you see J.J barreling into her.

“It’s not Kevin,” Garcia breathes.

Furrowing your brow, you sigh heavily as you slowly begin to turn the doorknob.

Garcia must have caught the movement.

“It’s Y/N,” she states plainly, her face turning back to J.J. as you begin to open Garcia’s bedroom door.


	14. Penelope Garcia AND J.J. Part 2

After navigating over 2 miles worth of piping, the team getting both worried and impatient, they come to the drop-off...the embankment they needed to slide down in order to climb up the wall on the other wide to get to the hallway you were at the end of.

And they had to slide down into the sewage.

As Hotch holsters his gun, his flashlight running along the walls, looking for any trip wires or out-of-place cameras, he turns back to his team, his eyes filled with worry and caution.

“Be careful sliding down,” he says.

And as he sits himself down, pushing himself off into the sludge, his eyes widen as he feels the light pressure of something up against the bottoms of his feet just before...

Pop!

“What was that!?” Emily exclaims, peering over the embankment as the sewage slowly begins to gurgle, bubbles puffing up to the top as Hotch’s eyes grow wide.

“Come on! We gotta get to her!” he yells as he scrambles for the wall, his body waist deep in sewage as his hands land on the ladder, his team sliding in...one-by-one...as they follow closely behind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jumping as you hear something clang off in the distance, your eyes start to dart around the room as you hear something akin to running water flowing around up above.

The team.

Feeling your lip begin to tremble as you hear something slowly begin to trickle out onto the floor, you take a deep breath and open your mouth, screaming for help as you feel the first little waves of sewage hit the back of your legs.

“Aarooooooooooooon!” you roar, listening for any reaction, but getting nothing but the slow trickle of disgusting waste settling slowly around your body.

“Spenceeeeeeeeeeeer!” you howl.

Silence.

“Somebody!! Pleeeeeeeeeeease!” you cry out.

And still? Nothing.

And as your sobs come heavily and without restraint, a terrifying realization dawns on your mind.

You were going to drown in their waste.

You thought back to J.J. and Garcia, the two stories you didn’t end up lying about. You decided to leave their sexual encounter out completely because of the sheer surprise of what had actually occurred. You knew you weren’t thinking well enough at that point to spin the story, so you stuck to true-to-life conversations.

You hoped they wouldn’t be angry with you.

Closing your eyes as you begin to whimper, you let your mind wander back to that evening you held most dear...an evening that you were still trying to convince yourself had even happened.

The evening with the girls.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As a silence settles over the room, you decide to pipe up from behind the door as it slowly creaks open, revealing the darkness of Garcia’s bedroom.

“Hey, J.J.. It’s just me,” you say.

“Oh...” J.J. trails off.

And then...realization.

“Ooooooooh!” she breathes.

“Jennifer....are you alright?” you ask.

Silence.

“Penelope...is she alright?” you ask.

“I uh...I don’t know, I kind of forgot that I texted her to come over so she could talk about Will,” she calls out.

And then, after an uncomfortable beat of pause.

“Should we...uh...”

Not knowing how to snake out of the situation, you close your eyes and take a deep breath, remembering your conversation with J.J. as you sigh heavily.

“Penelope, I’m gonna continue to stand behind the door. If you two are comfortable in joining...since, I assume, Jennifer already knows what’s happening...come on in. No other words have to be spoken. Otherwise, I’ll get myself out of this contraption, get dressed, and head out.”

“Contraption?” J.J. mouths to Garcia, her eyebrows furrowed as Penelope blushes furiously.

“Oh, _this_ I gotta see,” J.J. blurts out, making her way into the room as you shake your head.

Walking through the threshold of the door as you turn your back to the wall, you pause and hold your breath as you watch J.J. come into view, Garcia soon following in behind.

Locking eyes with J.J. as her jaw unhinges, you close the door as your eyes flicker over to an embarrassed Garcia, J.J.’s eyes widening at the dildo strapped to your body as you begin to second-guess your decision.

“That’s...” J.J. starts.

“She was slapping me with it earlier,” Garcia mumbles as J.J. slowly turns her head towards the embarrassed woman, her eyes wide as a shocked smile crosses your face.

And as J.J. begins to chuckle, her body much more relaxed than you would have expected, you find yourself crossing the floor to Garcia, connecting your lips with hers as you slowly push the robe from her shoulders, revealing the pink teddy ensemble underneath as your hands rise up to cup her burning cheeks.

Sliding your hands down to her breasts, you begin to slowly knead her aching chest as a set of lips press up against your neck, J.J.’s bare skin coming into contact with your back.

“This won’t do,” she says, playing with the hem of your shirt as you lift your arms up, your lips parting briefly from Garcia’s as she whimpers, her hands dancing over your bare stomach as J.J. works the clasp of your bra.

“You look devilishly good with a dick,” J.J. murmurs into your ear.

The sentiment through your eyes wide open.

Whipping your stunned expression over to her, she grasps your waist and turns you towards her, her lips crashing onto yours as Garcia’s fingertips play down your back.

“Men suck,” J.J. murmurs into your lips.

Bringing your hands to her hair, you see Garcia appear behind her, undoing the clasp on J.J.’s bra as it slides off of her body.

Reaching out behind J.J., you grab Garcia’s arm and wrench her onto the bed, peeling away from J.J. as you pounce on top of Penelope, your lips attaching to her neck as she leans her head back, a light whimper escaping her lips

Kissing down Garcia’s body, you pull the material of her teddy away from her as your lips latch onto her nipple, feeling J.J. press wet kisses on your bare back, making your skin stand at attention as her hands make their way to the front, pinching your nipples as you moan into Garcia’s chest.

“Ooooooh,” Garcia groans, her pelvis arching into yours as you steady your body over hers with your arms.

“Open wide,” J.J. coos, ripping you up from her and pressing your mouth into her tit, your hands splaying across her back as Garcia works herself out of her underwear, her hands extending for J.J.’s pants as she begins to work them off of her body as your tongue swirls around J.J.’s hardened peak.

The three of you now completely naked...save for Garcia’s top...you push Penelope back down onto the bed as you position yourself in between her legs, your arms hooking behind her legs and around her thighs as your fingers part her luscious folds, your eyes dancing around her glistening entrance as you grin devilishly.

“Don’t hold back,” she breathes as you flicker your dark stare up to her.

“As you wish,” you whisper.

Flattening your tongue out onto her unhooded clit, she calls out into the room as you feel J.J. crack her hand against your ass, groaning as she watches your skin turn red.

“Oh, Y/N,” she growls, rearing back and smacking the other one as you flick around Garcia’s clit, rolling it around and sucking her into your mouth as she writhes and calls out, begging for more.

“Please. Please, Y/N. Oooooh, good god. Yes, ohmygod...pleeeeease...”

She was just as vocal in bed as she was in the office.

“Well, that just won’t do,” you hear J.J. mutter as you feel her move.

Flickering your eyes up to Garcia as you see J.J. approaching from the side, you watch in awe as she swings her leg over, hovering her pussy above Garcia’s open mouth as Garcia’s eyes widen.

“We need to muffle some of these sounds,” J.J. muses.

Watching as Garcia’s hands fly to J.J.’s hips, pulling her down onto her face as her tongue dives in deep, you watch J.J. brace against the headboard as she grinds into her face, your tongue stopping mid-stroke to take in the surprising beauty of what is unfolding before your eyes.

Jennifer Jareau riding Penelope Garcia’s face.

Feeling yourself begin to pant as you raise up, you bring Garcia’s legs around your waist as you scoot closer to her, taking the dildo in your hand as lining it up with her sopping entrance as J.J. begins to murmur incoherent syllables.

Slowly pushing in as you hear Garcia groan, you watch J.J. lob her head back as she pants, your hips slowly thrusting into Garcia as you throw one of her legs over your shoulder, causing her to cry out into J.J.’s pussy as your left arm wraps around to palm and caress J.J.’s breast.

“Oh, good fuck,” J.J. bites as you start to roll your hips into Garcia.

Between Garcia’s flicking tongue and moaning vibrations, you twist J.J.’s head off to the side as you catch her lips in a passionate kiss, swallowing her moans and groans as her body shakes with her orgasm, your hips steadily thrusting into Garcia as J.J’s tremors subside, her body going limp up against yours.

“Your turn,” you whisper, holding onto her as you pound into Garcia a few more times, her body writhing as you pull out completely, helping to move J.J. onto her stomach as Garcia gets up off of the bed.

Spreading J.J.’s legs as you wiggle in between them, you feel Garcia reach around and flick something, the dildo beginning to vibrate against you as your eyes widen.

“I was trying to tell you to turn it on,” she murmurs into your ear, flicking her tongue out and catching your earlobe.

“Hey. Garcia,” J.J. calls out breathlessly, biting on her lower lip as she waves her over, “I’m not finished with you yet.”

Cocking your eyebrows in the air as your gaze turns towards Penelope, you watch as she crawls over and works her way underneath J.J.’s face, her lips smiling wide as she leans her back against the headboard of the bed, parting her legs as J.J.’s mouth descends upon her dripping pussy as you slowly push into J.J’s entrance.

“Oooooooh, bless,” Garcia moans, her head lobbing back as she bites down onto her bottom lip.

You couldn’t speak. The vibrations running through your body were causing such an intense buildup in your core that it continued to make you falter in your thrusts as you put your hands down onto the mattress, your tits pressed into J.J.’s back as you bite down onto her skin.

Hearing J.J. moan as you begin to thrust harder, the vibrating dildo causing her to jump and moan and wiggle as your breathing becomes short and ragged, you felt your quickly approaching orgasm burn in your core as the vibrating knob continues to play at your sensitive clit.

“Oh, J.J.,” Garcia moans, rocking her hips into J.J.’s face as you begin to groan into J.J.’s skin.

“Fuck,” you breathe as your thrusting increases, J.J.’s legs quivering underneath you as lay your head to rest on her back, her ass bouncing for you as she audibly laps up Garcia’s juices.

“Yes. Yes. Oh, my god. Yes. J.J...just...oh, yes. Please. Please, god. Yeeeeeees...”

Feeling your body growing weak as your breathing becomes audible, you begin to whimper as you thrust one last time into J.J., her toes curling as your orgasm overtakes you, your body shivering and jumping as you grunt and groan, your arms holding you steady as your legs begin to shiver, your teeth involuntarily sinking into the meat of J.J.’s skin as you feel her push herself into Garcia one last time, the curvy beauty falling apart at the seams as she yells, quite loudly, into the room as her body shakes and quivers.

Lobbing your eyes upwards as your orgasm slowly subsides, you watch Garcia’s jaw drop as she pants heavily, your hand moving to your side to feel for the off switch as you slowly pull out of J.J., her juices dripping down the vibrating shaft as you turn it off, the room filled with nothing but the sounds of the three of you panting for breath and groaning from delight.

And as you sit back onto your feet, raising your head to the ceiling as your chest continues to heave, you feel someone tug at your hand as your body lowers to the bed, settling in between the two girls as Garcia begins to undo the harness, working it off of your body as she tosses it to the side.

“I need to get back to Henry,” J.J. mutters into your shoulder before giving it a chaste kiss.

“Understandable,” you breathe.

“Y/N?” Garcia asks as J.J. gets up to find her clothes.

“Yes, Penelope?” you croak, opening your eyes and taking in her reddened face.

“You can stay here if you’d like,” she offers.

“Sounds good,” you mutter, feeling your eyes become heavy as J.J. chuckles off in the distance.

“I guess we wore her out,” she says.

“I guess so,” Garcia replies as you feel her snuggle against you, her comfortable body encompassing you within its grasp as you snuggle in close.

But the memory didn’t last long, for the sewage slowly creeping around your body pulled you back to reality as a sour taste floods your mouth, causing you to spit and sputter as you vomit stomach bile onto the floor in front of you.


	15. Rescue and Spencer Reid Truth

As Hotch claws his way up the ladder, hearing the sewage gurgle its way into the piping from below, he stands to his feet as he draws his weapon, clicking on his flashlight as he progresses down the long, dark corridor.

And then...a voice.

“Aaroooooooooooon!”

Feeling his ears stand up as the rest of the team lines up behind him, he throws his hand back and tells them all to shush.

“Spenceeeeeeeeeeer!”

“Oh, my god,” Spencer mumbles.

“Y/N!! Y/N!!!!!!!” Spencer screams, ripping past Hotch as he barrels down the hallway, ignoring the calls of his teammates as he clicks his flashlight on, not bothering to pull his weapon as he slips and slides through the dark, damp tunnel.

“Y/N! Say something!!” he roars.

"Somebody...please!!!!!”

Breathing hard, the stench in the air bringing tears to his eyes, he finally arrives at a metal door, the doorknob rusted off, but as he looks around, he realizes that the hinges on the door are new.

“You guys!! There’s a door here!” he yells behind him.

Hearing the running sloshing of feet behind him, he bangs on the door as he draws his weapon.

“FBI! Open up!”

But he was met with silence.

Drawing his gun up as he shoots at the hinges on the door, he sees a hand reach out beside him, grabbing the falling object as the hinges come busting off, the door beginning to tumble towards him.

Feeling Morgan jump in front of him as Hotch joins on the other side, the two men lower the thick, metal door slowly to the wet ground as Spencer pans his flashlight into the room.

“Y/N!” Emily shouts, running past Spencer as his jaw unhinges.

As the sewage slowly begins to run past their feet, Emily and J.J. brush past everyone and rush to your side, propping up your chair as they begin to work your bindings off of your ankles and wrists..

“Help us!” Emily yelps, drawing Spencer from his trance as he rushes to your side, feeling for your pulse on your neck as he sighs with relief.

“It’s faint, but it’s there,” he breathes, looking up at Hotch.

“Did she swallow any of the sewage?” he asks, looking sternly at Reid.

And that’s when you faintly shook your head no.

“Y/N!” Morgan breathes, getting down and cupping the sides of your face with his hands as Spencer’s eyes and fingers dance along your body, logging every wound, bruise, and scratch for the EMT’s.

“Uuuuuuuuungh,” was all you managed to get out before violently coughing, your throat so dry that you begin retching stomach bile onto Morgan’s shirt.

“That’s it, beautiful” he coos, running his hand through your hair as you continue to heave, “You’re alright. We’ve got you.”

And as you faintly hear Emily radioing for an ambulance, you feel your legs and hands fall free for the first time in who knows how many days, your body falling forward as Spencer juts in front of Morgan, catching you and cradling you in his arms as he picks you up, holding you close as he walks you out of your death and slowly back into the light.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As the doctor comes through the double doors, the team...Garcia included...jumps to their feet as he approaches them all.

“Is she going to be ok?” Penelope chokes out through her sobs.

“It depends on the first 24 hours,” he says.

“What does that mean?” Hotch says as his team begins to shrink behind him.

“Your Wellness Director has endured a lot. She has no skin around her ankles and wrists, 60% of her body is covered in bruises and scratches, her right leg where the infected gash was had dying muscle tissue around it, so we actually had to remove some of that muscle completely. She will permanently walk with a cane once she fully recuperates.”

As Garcia begins to sob again, Morgan wrapping his arm around her and pulling her close, Spencer steps up beside Hotch.

“Is she going to live?” he asks.

“Right now there’s a massive infection coursing through her system. It completely shut down her kidneys, and besides the yeast infection from sitting in her own waste...as well as the waste of others...we have to get her hydrated and her kidney function up before we can treat anything else. She’s still under while they are doing the first round of dialysis in an attempt to filter some of this stuff from her blood, and then she’ll be transferred to an ICU room, where you guys can come in one-by-one to see her, if you’d like.”

As the team nods, tears streaming down their faces, Spencer’s jaw begins to quiver as Hotch puts his hand on his shoulder.

“She’s tough, Reid,” he says.

But all Spencer could do was cry.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Groaning as you feel a pain shoot behind your eyes, you furrow your brow deep as you feel someone squeeze your hand.

“Y/N?...Y/N! Can you hear me?”

Penelope?

“Oh, my god. Oh, my god, Y/N...”

Feeling someone kiss your forehead, you grimace as you swallow, the aftertaste of urine on your tongue as you attempt to shift in bed, only to be met with a shooting pain in your right leg.

“Aaah!” you grunt, followed by a slew of coughs coming from your chalky throat.

“You guys!” Garcia yells, running to the door, “She’s awake!”

Hearing a stampede of feet followed heavily by a booming doctor’s voice trying to tell them one at a time, you hold your hands up, your eyes still not open, as you hear the room quiet down, including the doctor.

“Shut. Up,” you wheeze, barely above a whisper as you grimace at the pain in your throat.

Was there anything on your body that didn’t hurt?

“Can you open your eyes?” Hotch asks.

“Aaron...” you croak, your hand held out as you feel him slip his within yours.

“Hey there,” he chokes out, a tear working its way down his face.

“Miss Y/L/N,” the doctor says, pushing through the team, “is there a reason you aren’t opening your eyes?”

“The pain in my...me...h-h-head,” you shakily respond.

“Alright. Well, I’m going to do a quick test with some blood I’m going to draw from your arm, and if your kidney function is up above 60%, we can try to put you on some pain medication that’s a little stronger,” he says as you feel a light pinch in your arm.

“My...my kidney function?” you ask as you turn your head towards the pinch.

And as the team shoots the doctor varying degrees of wary looks, he sighs as he stands, the vial of your blood tight within his palm.

“I’ll let your friends talk you through that,” he says, patting your shoulder as you feel the butterflies bouncing around in your stomach.

Nodding lightly as the doctor makes his way out the door, you feel someone sit down on the edge of the bed as they begin rubbing your leg.

“How does this feel?” Rossi asks.

“David,” you smile.

“There she is,” Prentiss muses.

“And Emily...” you trail off, your mockingly sultry tone of voice eliciting the slightest of sad chuckles from her lips.

“Where’s my Derek?” you ask just as a heavy hand comes down on your shoulder.

“Right here, gorgeous,” he says lowly, bending down and kissing the top of your head.

“J.J.?” you ask, cocking your head to the side.

“Gone to search for some water for you,” Hotch pipes back up.

Nodding slightly, the smile sinks from your face as you listen to the silence fall around the room.

“This is usually when Spencer fills the void,” you say, chuckling nervously.

And still...you were met with silence.

Until? The briefest of sniffles.

“Oh, Spencer...” you whisper, holding your left hand out as you wiggle your fingers, the gauze wrapped around your skin flexing as you wince.

Feeling him slowly intertwine his fingers with yours, you think back to the only night that Spencer had ever truly called you.

For all intents and purposes, the night went about how you had told the woman. He had called you late at night, sniffling and not able to talk. You had grabbed food and coffee and gone over to see him, eventually falling asleep on the couch with him curled up in your lap.

It was the in between meat that you had left out:

You remember, after about 30 minutes of silence just as you were running your fingers through his hair, you heard the faintest of questions pour from his lips.

“Do you think I’m a virgin?”

Furrowing your brow, not sure you had heard him correctly, you continue untangling his knotted hair as you cock your head lightly.

“What was that, handsome?” you ask.

Feeling him sit up, his eyes puffy and his face red, he sits with his back to the couch arm, his legs crossed and his eyes empty.

“Do you think I’m a virgin?” he asks again.

Opening your mouth as you debate on your answer, your silence tells him everything.

“Well I’m not,” he says, looking you straight in your eyes.

“Well? I’m glad we established that,” you respond.

“I’m just not...very good,” he says, blushing furiously as he looks down in his lap.

“And why do you think that?” you ask, bringing your head upright as you turn your body to face his.

Shrugging, he sighs as he presses the heels of his palms to his eyes.

“Because women never want to sleep with me?” he retorts.

“Have you ever asked?” you rebuttal.

“You don’t just ask women to sleep with you!” he exclaims, his eyes wide as he shoots you a look.

“No...but you take them to dinner, buy them drinks, and take them home, don’t you?” you retort, a slight grin on your face.

“Well...no,” he says, his shoulders slumping forward.

“Well, then that’s why you’re not getting laid,” you say, bringing your hand over and patting his knee.

“Not funny,” he murmurs as he catches you trying to bury a smile.

“Maybe...just a teeny bit funny,” you say, holding your fingers up for him to see.

As a chuckle begins to play upon his lips, you find yourself smiling broadly as you reach over to the table, grabbing his large coffee and handing it to him.

“What happened?” you ask.

“Just a stupid outing with Morgan gone wrong,” he murmurs.

“Wanna talk about it?” you implore.

“The gist of it is Morgan is a ladies’ man with all the moves, in and out of the bedroom, and I’ve never done anything but missionary...and that’s if I can talk to her first,” he huffs.

“Well, Mr. Speed Read, have you ever read the Kama Sutra?” you ask.

Watching his eyes flicker up to you, you can tell by his reaction that he hasn’t.

“Maybe you should put that eidetic memory and those speed reading capabilities to other uses besides solving crimes,” you say, winking at him as you bring your coffee to your lips, taking a long, slow pull as he holds your stare.

How in god’s name had he never thought of that?

Clearing his throat, he takes a sip of his coffee.

“Well, even if I did...I don’t have a girlfriend to even try them with,” he says, his cheeks glowing red with the topic of conversation.

“Maybe not,” you say, shrugging, “but you always have me.”

Giggling at him as he chokes on his coffee, the black liquid spilling from his lips and into his lap as your eyes crease at the sides, your shoulders shake as you watch him get up from the couch, rushing over to the kitchen to get a dishcloth so he could wipe up the cushion.

“I couldn’t, uh...I couldn’t ask you to do that,” he says, scrubbing at the cushion as you put your hand on top of his, his bright red face slowly turning in your direction.

“Yes, you can. You can ask me anything. Any time. Anywhere.”

And as you hold his gaze, his eyes flickering momentarily to your lips, he clears his throat as he tosses the dishcloth onto the coffee table, settling his head back into your lap as you resume running your fingers through his hair.

“Under one condition,” he says.

“Mhmmmmm?” you hum.

“If there’s ever anything you need. If you ever get sick, or need medicine, or have a nightmare, or are just lonely. Call me,” he finishes.

“That isn’t how this works, Spencer,” you sigh.

“It is if the person asking truly enjoys taking care of others,” Spencer rebuttals.

Sitting there, considering his proposal, it made sense. He took care of his mother from a very young age, from dressing her to bathing her and cooking her meals to feed her. Then as he progressed through school and joined the FBI, he seems to be the person everyone can go to with their secrets and problems...the one person they call if they are sick, or need a favor, or even for advice. Because they know he will always come running.

In his mind, taking care of someone like he did with his mother not only solidifies the relationship he has with that person, but solidifies himself as a man in a world where brawn still reigns over more than brain.

And as you found yourself nodding slowly, you murmur the words, “Ok, then,” before feeling Spencer hunker down into your lap, his breathing slowly evening out as you pull a blanket from the back of the couch over his body.


	16. Hospital Release

As you feel Morgan remove his hand, you hear the shuffling of bodies as Spencer comes and sits on the left side of your bed, your hands slowly connecting as he pats the top of your hand.

“You um...”

Squeezing his hand for reassurance, you turn your head over towards the sound of his voice as the doctor comes back into the room.

“Good news!” he croons, “Your kidney function is sitting at 72%, so we can give you some things for the pain. We should see it continue to steadily rise as they work on filtering your blood, coupled with you dispelling your waste in a timely manner as well as keeping you hydrated and pumped up with these antibiotics.”

“That’s great news!” J.J. comes in, hearing the sloshing of water in her hand.

“Here, Spence,” she says quietly as she hands him a cup with a straw.

Feeling something dance upon your lips, you part your cracked and bleeding mouth as you close it around the straw, heavily gulping down the water as you swallow audibly.

“Thanks,” you breathe, catching your breath as Spencer hands the cup back to J.J. to refill.

“Alright,” the doctor interjects, “this is a couple of ticks down from morphine. You should feel good enough to open your eyes within the next few minutes,” the doctor says as he injects something into your IV, your hand growing cold as the medication passes into your system.

“Thank you, doctor,” you say as your voice begins to clear, the croaking giving way to a much more stable sound.

“We’ll come check on you in about an hour,” he says, patting your shoulder lightly before exiting the room.

Cocking your head back towards Spencer, you hear him sniffle once more before clearing his throat.

“You, uh...you have a lot of, of bruising on...on your body,” he starts, “...and, um...the gauze on your ankles and wrists are holding artificial skin in place until it heals around the wounds, because your bindings rubbed off all the topical skin on those areas.”

Hearing him swallow his sobs, you squeeze his hand tighter, feeling your own tears rise behind your aching eye sockets.

“Your, um...your face is kind of swollen, and your eyes are really bruised,” he says as you feel him raise his other hand, his feather-like fingertips dancing along your cheek, “...and you have two cracked ribs.”

Nodding lightly as a tear escapes, you feel him wipe it away gently with his thumb as he whimpers.

“You have a yeast infection that can’t be treated yet,” he whispers, almost like a tragic secret, “and you are on a slew of antibiotics for an infection that originated in the gash in your leg.”

You had completely forgotten about that.

Trying to move your right leg, you wince in pain as you bite back a yelp, settling your leg back down as it quivers.

“They, uh...” Spencer starts, his voice cracking, “...some of the muscle around the infection site started dying, so they had t-...to, uh...remove a chunk of your...your muscle tissue.”

Spencer could no longer hold back his sobs as he places his forehead onto your shoulder, releasing your hand as you bring it around to his back.

“Sssshhhh...” you coo into his ear as you hear sniffles coming from the rest of the team.

You felt the pain in your head slowly dissipating.

“You’ll permanently walk with a cane,” he whispers.

“It’s alright,” you whisper back, placing a chaste kiss on his ear as he sobs into the crook of your bruised neck.

“Your throat is sore from all of th stomach bile eroding the skin on the inside of your esophagus, and that’ll just take...take time...”

Hearing him heave with sobs was breaking your heart into pieces.

“...it’s a wonder y-y-you don’t have a...a concussion,” he whispers brokenly, his chest heaving as tears begin to trickle down your face.

“I’m _alive_ , Spencer,” you hiccup, feeling him raise up and place his forehead onto yours.

“I’m so sorry,” he sobs silently.

“For what?” you ask.

“For not getting to you sooner. For not putting the pieces together more accurately. We lost so much time-”

And as your eyes flutter open, your bloodshot Y/C/E eyes staring into his closed beauties, you kiss the tip of his nose as his eyes fly open, shocked to be met with your stare.

“I’m. Alive,” you enunciate, watching him slowly rear up as you take in his entire face, your eyes slowly scanning the room at the team, realizing that they must have gone home, showered, and changed while you were in surgery.

“I take it you guys didn’t come get me in civilian clothes,” you muse lowly, a hesitant smile playing on your face.

“No,” Rossi snickers as he shakes his head, his eyes glistening as he sniffles hard, crossing his arms over his chest and looking down at the floor, “no, we didn’t.”

“How much pain will my leg give me from now on?” you ask, your eyes panning around the room as they settle slowly onto Morgan.

“Uh...well...the doc said that everyone’s body reacts differently. Some people have chronic pain, while others only experience it after a long day of being up and about,” he responds.

“Only time’ll tell,” Hotch chimes in, his smile dancing across his cheeks as you turn to look at him.

“You really need to smile more,” you muse.

“Only when I’m with you,” he muses back, his hand reaching out and grasping your right forearm, his thumb tracing light circles on your skin.

“How long of a hospital stay will this be?” you ask, lobbing your head back over to Spencer.

“Well, the doctor said that depends,” Garcia says, piping up from the corner as you slowly move your eyes to catch her body.

“On what?” you ask.

“He wants you up on a cane and familiar with it before you leave,” she says.

Sighing as you try to lift your leg, still wincing despite the medication, you feel tears prickle the back of your eyes as you lob your head back over to Spencer.

“Hey, Spencer?” you ask.

“Yeah?” he sniffles, bringing his arm up to wipe his nose.

“I uh...I believe someone offered to take my phone call if I...uh...if I ever needed to be taken...taken care of,” you choke out, your voice trembling as your eyes begin to water again.

“Yeah,” he nods, “yeah someone did.”

“Consider this me calling,” you whisper, your fingers curling over his hand as he purses his lips together, nodding as he glances down at your hand.

“I can do that,” he says, a light smile spreading across his face as he looks back up at you, “I can definitely do that.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It took you just shy of two weeks to be up and about on a cane. The swelling had dissipated all around your body, your ribs had set themselves, the bruising was letting up...which meant the soreness wasn’t as bad...and the scarring over of the divot in your leg was finally starting to take place after several days of painful cleanings.

So here you were, being wheeled out of the hospital, a bag of pain medication in your lap while Spencer slung your bag over his shoulder, pushing you out through the double doors as the team greets you outside.

Leaning your head back and closing your eyes, you smile...taking in the warmth of the sunshine as the team watches you in awe.

“She’s a hell of a woman,” Morgan murmurs.

“Preach,” Rossi couples.

“How are you feeling?” Hotch asks as he walks over to your side, placing his hand on your arm as you look over at him and open your eyes, smiling.

“I missed the sun,” you murmur.

Bending down to kiss the top of your head, he and Spencer help you out of the chair, Emily scurrying over and grabbing your cane as she hands it to you.

Hobbling to the car as the nurse shakes her head, you switch the cane from your left to your right hand, becoming much sturdier as Rossi begins to giggle.

“We got ourselves a regular House,” he sasses, handing you your medication as you open an orange pill bottle, tossing one into your mouth and swallowing for effect.

“Can it, David,” you say, shooting him a mocking glance as a grin creeps across your face.

“Alright,” J.J. says, parting the waves as she comes over and helps you buckle your seat belt.

“You know I can do this, right?” you ask, her face turning to meet yours as she buckles the belt securely around your waist.

“I know,” she says, her face sad as she turns to meet your gaze, “...I just...”

“I know,” you say lowly, raising your hand and tucking her hair behind her ear.

“I know,” you whisper.

Watching as tears crest her eyes, she clears her throat as she backs out of the car, nodding her head in punctuation as she steps back and closes the door.

You don’t even remember pulling out of the hospital driveway, what for the pain medication kicking in and you falling asleep in the passenger-side seat.


	17. Spencer Reid Truth

When you came to you were nestled in your bed with wonderful smells wafting in from the hallway.

Groaning as you sit up, you grab your cane and set your feet on the floor, wincing slightly as you reach for your Tylenol pill bottle and open it up, popping a couple back and swallowing deeply.

You were getting eerily good at that.

Making your way out into the hallway, you see Spencer peak around the corner as he smiles.

“Hey there!” he says, rushing down the hallway as he takes your left arm, “How did you sleep?”

“Like the dead,” you croak, trying to clear your throat as you see a bottle of water thrust into your vision.

“Here,” Rossi says.

Furrowing your brow as you slowly look over at Rossi, his smiling face becoming a comforting sight, you raise the bottle to your lips, taking a long swig of drink before inhaling deep.

“I knew it smelled too good to be Spencer,” you say, grinning slyly as you shoot a glance over to him.

“I mean, I can make an awesome sandwich,” he says as you begin to chuckle.

“What a beautiful sound,” Rossi muses, stirring something in a large pot as you make your way over to a kitchen chair, Spencer steadily beside you as he tries to help you balance.

“Rossi’s been cooking the entire time. Says he’s making freezer meals?” he questions, his brow furrowed in confusion at the term.

“Ah, yes. Meals I can unthaw and heat up to eat. No other requirements necessary,” you say, smiling as Rossi leans back and winks at you.

Getting up as you hobble over to Rossi, you wrap your free hand around his waist, kissing his back as you lean your forehead in between his shoulder blades.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

“Prego, bello,” Rossi responds.

Sighing heavily as you stay put, the rhythmic movement of Rossi stirring lulling you slowly back to sleep, you feel yourself drifting off before a pair of arms catches you around your body.

“Whoooooa, there,” Rossi says.

“Y/N?!” Spencer cries, dashing to your side as he picks you up in his arms, a look of concern etched into their faces.

“Why am I so tired?” you sigh, leaning into Spencer’s chest.

“Because it’s been a hell of a past three weeks,” Rossi states, taking the piping hot pot and pouring its contents into another one on the counter.

“Let’s get you back to bed,” Spencer whispers, placing a kiss on your forehead.

It was the first time he had ever showed any physical affection towards you.

“No,” you groan, shaking your head.

“Alright. Alright,” Spencer says, taking you back to the couch as he sits down, you curling up in his arms as you tuck your head under his chin.

“Riiiight here...” you sigh, feeling your eyes flutter closed as Spencer’s arms hold you close.

“Right here,” you hear him whisper before finally drifting back off to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As the weeks bleed into two months, Spencer is finally due back at work. He had taken as much time as he could, and even though you were up and around on your own, with the bruising completely gone as well as your leg no longer experiencing its chronic pain, he was still hesitant about leaving you at your house alone.

“But what if you fall?” he asks as you push him towards the door.

“Then I’ll get back up,” you shoot back.

“But what if you need something off of a shelf?” he asks again, spinning around as you lean over to the side and open your door.

“Then I’ll stand on my tippy-toes and get it,” you chuckle.

“But what if you need someone,” he emphasizes, slamming the door closed as you look up at him.

“Then I’ll call,” you reassure him, lifting your hand to cup his cheek as he nuzzles into it, his eyes closing as he sighs through his nose.

It ended up taking you 30 minutes to get him out the door.

And now? It was just after lunchtime, and you were sitting in a hot bath soothing the aching muscle in your leg.

You had gotten out in the yard for a while, pulling weeds in your garden and mowing the lawn. You figured you could start doing your normal activities again, including taking care of your not-so-neglected-yard-but-wanted-something-to-do lawn.

Morgan wouldn’t be happy if he knew you were going over his handiwork.

But when you sat down on the couch to rest after a long morning of yardwork, your leg locked up.

At least the pain wasn’t chronic.

After about a half an hour in the bath, the throbbing soreness had been soothed away, and you could freely bend your leg without feeling like you were trying to move it through concrete.

Standing up in the bath as you gingerly lift your leg, you grab for your cane to steady yourself as you set your foot gingerly onto the floor, meandering yourself forward so that you were looking at your body in the mirror.

A scar here, a nick there, a very faintly yellow bruise in a couple of places...

And a huge scarred divot in your leg.

As your fingers trailed down your body, sliding down your hipbone as you watched your reflection in the mirror, your fingers dip down into the cavern that was the removed muscle of your right leg, your hand beginning to tremble as you rip your hand away, cursing under your breath.

It was ugly.

Feeling tears sting the back of your eyes, you blink them away as you hobble out of the bathroom, collapsing onto your bed with your soaking wet body.

How in the world were you going to pass the time?

You still had another month before Aaron would accept you back at work.

And then, an idea struck you.

Reaching over to your bedside table, you pull open the drawer as you finger around for your suction-cupped dildo, knowing damn good and well how you would pass the time.

Standing up without your cane, you brazenly hobble over to the side of the bathtub, sticking the suction cup to the ceramic edge as you stumble trying to lift your bum leg into the tub, not realizing that your hand had crashed onto your phone on the kitchen sink counter trying to catch yourself when you slipping, causing it to tumble it to the floor as it speed-dialed the last number you had called.

Spencer’s number.

Practically jumping back to the drawer as you grab your miniature vibrating bullet, you grab your cane and work your way back to your bathroom, your chest already flushing from the inevitable orgasm that you were going to crash upon your body.

“If my leg is gonna be sore,” you murmur to yourself as Spencer picks up the phone, “then it’s gonna be a party.”

“Y/N?” Spencer says into his phone as Morgan looks up at him, cocking an eyebrow in the air.

“Y/N?” he asks again, a bit louder as he holds his hand up to the team, walking around the corner and down the hallway as he tries to listen to the phone call.

Turning on the bullet and teasing yourself on the edge of the tub, you let out a light moan as you put your forehead against the tile of the shower, your already quivering legs hovering your body over the purple dildo as you slowly feel your wetness misting your folds.

“Ooooooo,” you moan.

As Spencer furrows his brow, holding the phone out as J.J. rounds the corner, she goes to speak as Spencer holds up his hand again, pressing the receiver even closer to his ear as his free hand plugs his opposite ear in an attempt to hear you better.

“Y/N? Can you hear me?” he asks.

But you couldn’t.

Sliding yourself down onto the dildo, your divoted leg shaking as you finally collapse all the way to the hilt, you let out a guttural groan as you slowly begin to rock.

“Oooooh yeeeah...” you growl lowly.

As Spencer’s eyes widen, J.J. looking at him as she turns quickly on her heels, she marches her way back to Hotch as Spencer stands, rooted to the ground, in the hallway.

Rocking back and forth as you pick up your pace, you spread your folds with your left hand as you place the bullet in between your legs, closing your pussy lips around it as you brace yourself against the wall, your head steadying your torso against the tiles as you clench your teeth.

“Oh...god!” you bite, causing Spencer’s face to redden.

“Reid?” Hotch asks as he rounds the corner.

Snapping his head up, Hotch’s brow furrows in concern as he motions to the staircase.

“Go,” he says.

Nodding as J.J. hands him his bag, he takes off down the hallway, slamming the stairway door open as he begins to pant, taking the stairs two-by-two down to the main floor as he feels himself growing against the material of his pants.

“Shit,” he whispers harshly, looking down briefly before marching into the main lobby, making his way quickly for the glass doors to the outside.

But back at your house, you began to rock quicker, reaching down for the control mechanism on your bullet as you turn the vibrations up.

“Oooooooh, yeah baby!” you cry out, a stupid grin on your face as you bounce your ass up and down, your cheeks jiggling with every pulse you make, your juices dripping onto the edge of the bathtub.

As Spencer makes it outside, he flags down a cab as he quickly gets in, rattling off your address and telling him to step on it.

He felt his body flushing with every sound that came through his cell phone.

“Oh...oh, baby. Yes. Yeeeeeees,” you moan, placing the palm of your left hand against the wall as you begin to rock again, the vibrations subsiding as you try to elongate the moment as much as you can.

And then? He heard it.

“Oh, Spencer.”

It was faint. A whisper...like a butterfly’s wings fluttering on your skin.

And then? A groan.

“Ooooooh, Spencer...”

Feeling his eyes widen as his heart rate speeds up, he grimaces as he places his bag on top of his lap, so desperately trying to hide his raging erection as he tries to say your name once more into the phone.

“Y/N? Can you hear me?” he squeaks out.

But you were so far gone in your pleasure that you didn’t care.

Feeling the vibrations slowly tick themselves up on the automatic mode you had set, your breath quickens as the cab pulls up to your house.

“Here,” Spencer says, throwing a wad of money at the cab driver as he slams the door, awkwardly running up to your garage as he works desperately to find the spare key.

“Yes...yes...yes!” you yell, grinding into the purple dildo as you feel your weak leg begin to tremor with exhaustion.

“No no no,” you whisper, having to stop and pause as you feel your orgasm slowly build within you.

“Please...” you whimper, feeling the tears of frustration rise in your eyes as you try to pick yourself back up, only for your leg to give way as your head crashes into the bathroom wall.

“Y/N!?” Spencer yells, dropping all of his stuff in front of the garage door, throwing the door open as he runs through the kitchen, turning down the hallway as he hears you sobbing in the bathroom, your moans flickering between pleasure and frustration as tears stream down your face, your legs straddling a purple dildo as Spencer’s eyes widen at your straddled position around the edge of the tub.

Rolling your head in his direction, your eyes flicker down to your phone on the floor, your jaw hanging open as you see the ticking seconds on the screen, with Spencer’s name scrawling across the front.

And just as you went to go justify yourself, you felt the vibrations pick back up again, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you begin to involuntarily rock your hips back and forth.

“Oh no, you don’t,” Spencer mutters.

Striding towards you, he rips you up, throwing you over his shoulder as your juices drip down the insides of your legs, the bullet vibrating loudly against the inside of the tub as he tosses you down onto your bed, your chest heaving with pants as he steadily works to get his clothes off, his eyes scanning your naked body hungrily as he rips his vest and shirt over his head, his belt buckle clacking to the floor as he stumbles to get out of his boxers.

Trying to pick yourself up off of the bed, Spencer pounces onto you, his body settling in between your legs as his lips crash into yours, your hands flying into his hair as his hand reaches between your bodies, lining his throbbing dick up with your entrance as he slowly guides himself in.

The two of you react with a resounding groan as he dips his head into your neck, sucking in a chunk of your skin as he begins to roll his hips into you, your legs trembling as he quickly picks up his pace.

“You...have been so...so...tempting...” he breathes in between pants.

But your breath was gone.

You couldn’t think.

You couldn’t speak.

All you could do was writhe underneath him as the pressure in your abdomen builds and builds, causing you to arch your chest into him as primal groans and grunts escape your lips.

Feeling him dip his hand in between your bodies, his long, slender fingers slip in between your swollen pussy lips, working delicately to find your clit as they begin encircling it deeply as your hands drag from his hair down to his back, dragging your nails across his muscles as he bites down on his lower lip.

“Oh, Y/N...” he grunts, his thrusts coming deeper and heavier as you dig your good leg into the mattress, your other one being grasped by Spencer and thrown over his shoulder as he kisses the back of your calf, his balls slapping against your ass as your eyes roll into the back of your head.

“Yes...yes...please...” you whisper, begging him to give you what you want.

Peppering your neck and cheek with kisses, you raise your hips to match his bucks as he pries your mouth open with his tongue, swallowing your moans and yelps as your orgasm wafts over your body, your leg tumbling off of his shoulder as your core contracts, causing your entire body to grow taut.

And then? You felt him twitch inside of you.

“Oh, yes...Y/N...Y/N...” he murmurs into your mouth, his arms trembling as his body shakes, his eyes tightly shut as he spills into you before collapsing on top of you as the rhythmic sound of your bullet still in the tub comes back to the forefront of your ears.

Panting as Spencer trembles against you, his face buried deep into the crook of your neck, you chastely kiss his temple as you breathe, “Cross that off the book.”

“Huh?” he asks, slowly pulling out of you as he slides off to the side.

“The book. Karma somethin’,” you say, waving your hand in the air.

“Oh. Oh yeah,” Spencer pants.

“Cross that off,” you say again as you turn your head towards him, smiling lightly as he over at you with twinkling eyes.

“One down, 63 more to go,” he grins.


	18. Girls' Night

Over the next month and a half, Spencer had not only managed to educate you on the other elements of the Kamasutra, such as the health-and-wellness chapters or the marriage-and-commitment chapters, the two of you had managed to cross off 41 of the 64 sexual positions mentioned in the book.

Flopping down onto the bed, sweat pouring down your naked bodies, your hand migrates to your leg as you begin to massage the sore muscle.

“Well...” you breathe, your chest heaving as hickies begin to form on your breasts.

“Whoa...” Spencer pants, his hands trembling as his fingers creep along the bed to find your hand.

“Feel a little more experienced?” you ask, tilting your head over to him as you smile.

“ _Definitely_ ,” he groans, lobbing his head over to you as he smiles back.

“Ever hear back from the girl you met at the coffee shop?” you ask.

“Not yet,” he says, shaking his head.

Spencer had been so proud of himself that morning. He had come hustling into work, making a beeline for your office before slamming your door shut and throwing his hands in the air.

“I gave a girl my number!” he had yelped.

“Aren’t you supposed to get _her_ number?” you had teased, slyly looking up from your paperwork as a grin crossed your face.

“I did that, too,” he had said proudly, beaming as he took out the crumpled up napkin from his pocket.

“Whoa! And it’s got all the numbers, too!” you had teased, earning a mocking glance from Spencer before leaning back into your chair and smiling broadly at him.

“I’m really proud of you, Spencer,” you had said.

And, once again, you felt the need to remind him.

“I’m proud of you, you know,” you say, squeezing his hand as a breathless chuckle falls from his lips.

“I know,” he says lowly.

Staring at him as you feel your cheeks begin to flush, you pull the blanket up over your body as both of your phones begin to vibrate.

Furrowing your brow as you roll over, your hand slamming onto your bedside table, you reach for your phone as Spencer reaches his arm out for his.

“Hello?” you both say in unison.

Looking over at each other, your naked bodies covered in the blanket, you hold your hand over your cell phone receiver as you mouth, “It’s Jennifer.”

“Coffee girl!” Spencer mouths back, a dopey smile crossing his face as he points to his phone.

“Yeah!” you silently say, giving him a thumbs up as he sits up in bed, the red lines on his bare back from your fingernails making you grin as you listen to J.J. chatter on about a girls’ night with wine and massive amounts of guy gossip.

“Just give me a time and place,” you muse quietly, getting out of bed as your right hand grabs your leg, your body limping over to the closet as you begin to rifle through your clothes.

“Alright, I can meet you in...30 minutes?” Spencer asks as your eyes flicker back to him, your hips playfully shaking your naked butt at him as he throws his hand over his mouth, stifling a laugh.

“Alright. I look forward to it,” he says, hanging up the phone as he sets it on the bedside table.

“Get to try out some of your new _mooooves_?” you drawl, turning your head back towards him again and wiggling your eyebrows as you pull out a flowing polka-dotted-patterned dress, holding it up to yourself as you pivot and look into the mirror attached to the inside of your closet door.

“Oh, I like that one,” Spencer coos, getting up as the blanket drops from his naked form.

“And no,” he chuckles, searching around for his clothes, “it’s just coffee.”

“Well, then you might wanna shower,” you emphasize, “just in case you smell like me.”

“Good idea,” he says, scurrying to your bathroom and shutting the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Giggling with the girls as you all sip on your third glass of wine, your phone pings as fear creeps into your soul, hoping that no one is in need of you while you are buzzed.

Taking your phone out as you swipe the screen, you breathe a sigh of relief as you see Spencer’s name pop up beside a text message icon.

Just wanted to let you know the date went well. Not my type, but the conversation was nice.

Typing back, the conversation lulling as the girls stare at you, you send your quick “I’m sorry” and set your phone down, looking back up as they all smirk at you.

“So...you and Spencer?” Garcia asks, bringing her wine glass up to her lips.

“No?” you question, furrowing your brow as your phone jumps again.

Another message from Spencer’s  
How is girls’ night?

Picking up your phone as you type away, you realize what you are doing and toss your phone off to the side, stopping the message halfway through as you furrow your brow deeper.

“What are the rules for falling for a team member?” Emily asks, her eyes locked onto you as you snicker.

“There’s no falling. Spencer had a request, and I’ve been fulfilling it,” you plainly state.

“Yeah...time and time again,” J.J. smirks.

“Because that’s what the nature of the request was,” you rebuttal.

“Wait...Spencer keeps _asking_ for it?” Emily interjects.

“Oh, this I gotta know,” Garcia says, propping her leg up under her body.

“No,” you say, shaking your head, “just like you can’t talk about your cases in the field, I can’t talk about my interactions with the team members.”

“Makes sense,” J.J. muses.

“But no fun!” Garcia whines.

“Sorry, gals,” you say, sipping your wine as you hear your phone jump again.

“Oh, for the love of-”

Picking it up to send a quick message back to Spencer, you see Strauss’ number scroll across your screen.

Picking up the call as you lean forward and place your wine glass on the coffee table, you take a deep breath before putting the phone receiver in your ear, your finger up against your lips as you silently ask the other women to be silent.

“Hey, Erin! What’s up?”

As the girls furrow their brows, you cover the receiver and mouth, “Not Hotch.”

Watching them all nod as you listen to Strauss on the other end, your expression sinks as you stand to your feet.

“I can’t honestly say that I’m in a position to drive, but I’ll have a cab bring me to your house,” you state.

After a few nods and a couple of “mhm”’s, you cut the phone call and stand to your feet.

Grabbing your purse in your hands as Emily stands with you, you see her grab your cane and hand it over to you.

“I can take you,” she says, grabbing her keys as she starts to heads for the door.

“Wait!” Garcia says, rummaging around for her purse as J.J. picks up her stuff.

“Wait...no. You guys can’t come, that’s-”

“Maybe she just needs some girl time,” J.J. offers.

“Or maybe she just needs people to sit with her,” Garcia suggests.

“You guys, you don’t get i-”

“Just come on,” Emily presses, shoving you out the door as the other girls follow suit, “if anything, we’ll just stay in the car,” she muses.

“No, seriously, this is-”

“Y/N,” Garcia slurs, her hand coming down hard on your shoulder as you clench your jaw and flicker your irritated gaze towards her, “we’re taking you, and that’s the end of that.”

Sighing as you dip your head, you grip the bridge of your nose as you slowly raise your head up.

“Think of it as us protecting you,” Emily states as she opens Garcia’s front door, “I take you somewhere you need to be because you need a DD, and in return you don’t have to take a sketchy cab all alone at 11 o’clock at night on a random weekend.”

It did make sense.

“Alright,” you groan, hobbling slowly over towards the door as J.J. and Garcia follow suit.

“Besides,” Emily starts, “I can’t wait to figure out what “Erin” needs,” she says as she mockingly air quotes her name.

“Emily!” you roar as you make your way down the hallway.

Just kiddiiiiing,” she sing-songs, laughing to herself as she shuts Garcia’s apartment door and makes her way down the stairs.


	19. Erin Strauss

Strutting up to her house, cursing yourself for having too much to drink, you start up the walkway to her house, your dress flowing behind you as you look up to Strauss’ porch.

And there she sat, with her head in her hands.

Motioning for the girls to stay put, you slowly walk up the steps, your heart racing as you make your way to her porch swing, your hand reaching out to steady its motion as you turn to sit down, gently lowering yourself into its hold as you prop your cane up against the house.

“Erin?” you ask.

But she didn’t respond.

This was the first time Erin had ever called on you...and it made you nervous.

Hearing her sigh heavily as she slowly looks up into the darkness, you notice her eyes dark and red from lack of sleep as she slowly turns her gaze over to you.

Catching her stare as she stands up from the swing, she moves around in front of you as she pulls over a porch chair, sitting down as she crossing her legs at her ankles and wraps her arms around her chest.

“I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place,” she admits.

You end up choosing to stay silent.

“It has come to my attention that a particular member of the team has been... _utilizing_ you...a bit more than the rest,” she states with a bite.

You feel your fingers curve around the edge of the swing.

“My concern is that he’s getting a bit _too_ emotionally attached,” she offers.

“I’d say most of them _are_ ,” you muse, your eyes squinting ever so lightly, “it’s what happens when you’re part of a team.”

“No...you work _for_ this team,” Strauss stresses.

“No,” you say sternly, slowly standing up from your seat as it swings backwards, dumping you to your feet, “I work _with_ this team.”

Spencer, throughout his escapades and experimentation with you, had finally tripped your mind into understanding the difference. He had finally gotten you to understand that, just because you weren’t out in the field with them, didn’t mean that you weren’t a part of the team. A part of something beautiful and greater than yourself.

And you weren’t going to let a jealous boss take that from you.

“You give them what they want,” she says flatly.

“I give them what they _need_!” you say, raising your voice as you take a step towards her with your good leg.

Studying her face as she grits her teeth, you watch her slowly stand to her feet, her height equally matching yours as her eyes lock onto you sternly, her jaw setting itself as you feel her body heat begin to radiate upon you.

“You’re just a thing to them,” she spits.

“Maybe so...” you drift off, “but your team has never been more efficient _or_ cohesive before I happened.”

And she knew you were right.

Studying her defeated expression as your eyes graze her body, your mind begins to throw itself back to a discussion Spencer and you had had after one of your all-night sessions.

_“Yeah, Garcia wanted to go to the convention with Kevin, but they were already broken up...so she asked me to go with her. It’s why I cancelled.”_

_“Oh! And guess who we saw there!? Rossi! We invited him to come along, but he just gave us a weird look.”_

_“I don’t know, I think Garcia was just seeing things when she said she saw Strauss later on.”_

And then? It clicked.

“David and I aren’t sleeping together any longer,” you offer.

Watching her eyes flicker back up to you, you take a step back onto your bad leg as you falter, catching yourself on her porch railing as Strauss involuntarily thrusts her arms out to grab you.

“I mean...he’s come over and cooked, and I’ve gone over and played his piano for him, but for the past couple of months now...since I’ve been out...our get-togethers have been nothing but platonic.”

Watching the relief flood her face, you hear her take a deep breath as you shake your head and look down at the concrete porch floor.

“Looks like Spencer isn’t the one you need to worry about,” you mutter, flickering a mocking look up at her as she clenches her jaw, her cheeks flushing ever so lightly as you reach out for your cane, ushering with your fingers for it as Strauss hands it to you.

And as you start hobbling over towards the steps, the girls’ anxiously waiting at the curb in the running car, you crane your head back to her as you take a deep breath in through your nose.

“Oh..and Erin?” you ask.

Watching her look up at you, a shadow of a smile playing on her cheeks, you set your face in stone as you say, “The next time you want to sleep with a co-worker, just tell me. You don’t have to insult me. After what I’ve been through, there’s nothing you could say that I haven’t heard.”

And with that...you began descending down the stairs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To say this story ends well is a bit of a stretch. In the coming months, Emily would be taken, attacked, beaten, killed, buried, and resurrected...and the members of the team would cope in different ways.

David would stop calling you and start calling Erin, hoping to find solace in her voice as she held him late at night.

Penelope would bring you sweets, her nerves keeping her up into all hours of the night as she baked to keep her hands busy, her tears dripping into her batters as she mixed them at 3 am, only to cat-nap in your office over the course of her lunch breaks.

She never did talk to you about how Emily’s death affected her.

J.J., having aided Aaron in establishing her cover in a different country, would play online poker late at night...sacrificing her much-needed sleep in order to make sure her best friend and confidant was alright.

Aaron would turn to you for constant physical comfort and verbal reassurance during his time lying to his team.

Derek would call you to rant, talking about how she was his perfect partner, and how he couldn’t believe he had ever thought that she could have done such horrible things.

But he still never did ask you to come over.

And Spencer? Well...Spencer struggled. With his tears. With his sleep. With his addiction.

Spencer would come over at 2...and sometimes 3...in the morning, coated in tears and smelling of Morgan’s, and he would bury his face into the crook of your neck as he lazily peeled off your clothes, his tears dripping onto your bare skin as he bared his emotions to Derek, and his body to you.

You comforted them after the funeral, standing at her burial site and weeping for their loss.

Weeping for your loss...

You would visit her grave every morning before work, placing a small cup of coffee on her grave as you stood to relive the inter-office memories.

You were never busier with the team’s emotional needs.

Until the morning she resurrected.

You had walked into your office, tears streaming down your face as you set your coffee on your desk, only for you to hear a rustling in the corner.

“Hey there, Y/N...”

Jumping at the voice, your eyes growing wide as you rush over to your light switch, you allow the illumination to flood the room, her wary face coming into view as your jaw hit the floor, your body running towards her as you enveloped her in a gargantuan hug, burying your face into the crook of her neck as you...for once...had your emotional needs tended to by Lazarus herself.

You didn’t care what had happened.

You didn’t care who knew and who didn’t.

All you cared was that she was alive.

But you knew she wasn’t happy.

The days moved on, and you watched her fruitless attempts at apartment hunting with Derek slowly give way to a need she truly wanted to fulfill.

A position at Interpol, stationing her in London.

She had talked with you about it on several occasions, locking the door behind her and lowering her voice, hoping to give her secret away to no one as her conflicted eyes drenched you in the indecisiveness of her choice.

Stay with a _team_ she loved, or move to a _job_ she loved.

And as you reached over and grabbed her hands, your eyes dancing around her face as you bring her fingers to your mouth, kissing each digit delicately, your eyes would flicker up to hers as you smile against her skin.

“You’ve already made your decision,” you muse.

“Besides,” you start, dropping her hands and pointing to the sign behind your head, “having a newbie around’ll be fun. It’ll be like rehashing all of the good times. You know...before the good times,” you giggle, winking at her playfully as you lean back into the chair.

And that’s exactly what happened. For when Alex Blake first walked into your office, you grinned at her as she looked around uneasily, your finger pointing over to the infamous sign you had penned in Rossi’s presence oh so long ago.

_Sex is NOT Mandatory._


End file.
